Y And His Victims
by Galadriell
Summary: Auror Harry Potter investigates a series of murders committed by Y.  He already lost his life to Y.  Now, working against time, he will need to stop the killer before another mutilated victim turns up.  Harry/Draco SLASH and SLASHER! COMPLETE!
1. Chapter 1: Victim Number 9

Against the cover of the night, sirens sounded through the red-light district, moving towards the heart of Canal Street. Harry Potter puffed out the last plume of smoke and dropped the cigarette butt to the ground, grinding it with the heel of his foot. He pulled the collars of his coat up to keep away the sleet.

"All clear, sir."

Harry nodded curtly and made his way into the dingy motel that was now crawling with paramedics, police, and crime scene analysts. He swiped the water and snow off of his coat, weaving past the chaos. Room 109. He had guessed right. When stopped by the officer, he flashed his badge. Liaison. The uniformed man looked up at Harry, silently questioning. Harry tilted his head towards the entryway. The man stepped aside and murmured, "It's a bloodbath in there, sir."

Victim number 9.

He was laid out on the bed, naked with his arms above his head and legs spread so his feet pointed to the two corners of the room. His face was twisted into a mask of terror and agony. His torso was split open, revealing his innards. The precision scalpel cuts were in the shape of an autopsy procedure – the letter Y. Blood caked on the body and soaked into the sheets. The metallic smell filled the room, masking the stench of the bowel movement the victim had as he was killed. Harry glanced around the room. Curtains closed, bathroom door closed, closet closed.

"It's the same."

Harry turned to look at the Detective Martin Blake. "Hmm…" he answered. Next to Harry, the detective was dwarfed in more ways than one. He didn't mind. He didn't notice trivial details such as Harry's meticulous clothes and sharp appearance. He didn't notice the blank eyes and serene mask. He needed all his attention to be focused on the crime.

"No wallet. And if this case is like the last few, I'd wager this man is not in our database," Martin said, rubbing his stubble. "I need a coffee," he sighed, leaving Harry's side.

No wallet. No clothes. No identity. Harry made a slow survey of the scene before him. This victim was laid in the same ritualistic display as the last eight. Except… Harry leaned in closer, eyeing the flaps of skin that were pulled apart. Clean. The cuts were getting cleaner. There was no hesitation in the way the skin was cut away. He ran his eyes up to the man's face. He was in so much pain. Moving further up, his arms were against the headboard, wrists crossed. No bruising. "The victim was incised premortem," the coroner informed. Harry's keen green eyes ran down to the victim's ankles. No bruising. "I will have the report done by tomorrow."

Harry nodded absently, glancing at the bedside table. He frowned when the noticed the draw open an inch. He looked to see if anyone was watching him. After he made sure no one was, he wedged his pen into the opening, using it as leverage to pull the draw out a few more inches. Nestled beside the Bible was a white folded piece of paper. He flicked it open with his pen.

_You're welcome.  
- Y_

Harry quickly withdrew his pen and pushed the draw closed with his knee. He turned to the bathroom, grabbing gloves from the coroner's kit and fitting them onto his hands. He opened the door and flicked on the lights. Ordinary. Never touched. He caught Martin's reflection behind him. "No fingerprints," the detective said, peeking inside the bathroom with Harry. "None. What does he do, wipe the whole room?" Martin was frustrated. They had no leads, no clues, and no suspects. These were the perfect crimes. Harry was holding out on him. "You aren't giving us the whole picture, are you?" he asked. Harry piqued his brows before sidling away from Martin and opening the closet. It was empty except for the extra pillows and blankets on the top shelf. "You don't expect us to solve this one, do you?" Martin asked, leaning against the wall and sipping on his coffee. "If you don't want us solving it, why doesn't your department just take over the case? Which is my subtle way of asking who the fuck you work for." Harry allowed himself a small smile, flicking his eyes at the detective. "Bet that works _wonders_ on the ladies," Martin muttered, rolling his eyes.

"I wouldn't mind a coffee," Harry said softly.

"Ah! He speaks!" Martin said, shoving the cup into Harry's hand. "Take this one. I'll grab another." He stalked away. Harry moved towards the bed again. The coroner was writing on her chart intently. The fingerprint analyst was by the doorjamb, trying to find the non-existent fingerprint. The crime scene photographer was busy with the body. Harry opened the draw and pulled the note out, hiding it in his hand.

"Found something?" the photographer asked, looking at Harry.

"Just the Bible," Harry murmured, closing the draw. He knew there was nothing else to find. But what he had found was monumental. He knelt down beside the bed and quickly dropped the note into an evidence bag, which he stowed into his pocket.

"I already checked. No blood on the carpet," the photographer said from the other side of the bed.

"Mhm," Harry murmured without thought, getting up.

"Oi! Keep those rats away," Martin shouted, scowling at what Harry assumed were reporters. "Can I bring in the rest of the team?" he asked Harry. He was met with a nod. Martin leaned back and waved in more staff. Harry pushed past them and out into the corridor with Martin. "So… Give me something to gnaw on," he said, looking at Harry intently.

Harry gave him an apologetic shake of the head. "Thanks for your help," he said, characteristic line he spoke after each crime he visited with the detective.

"Yeah, whatever. Just be glad I like you, Potter," Martin grumbled.

Harry was out of the motel a couple of minutes later. He kept his eyes on his shoes as they sloshed in the snow. He shrugged off the cold. He turned onto a side road and disapparated.

* * *

Harry yawned, rubbing his hands over his face. He let his fingers run through his hair as he read through the files.

"Ugh, you're pale as a vampire," Katie Bell said, walking into the office.

"Sorry," Harry sighed.

"Did you just apologize to me for being pale?" she asked playfully.

Harry blinked at his notes before looking up at her. "Um… Yeah. So I take that back," he said.

"When did you get here?" she asked, sitting down. Harry didn't answer, busily writing. "Harry," she said, looking at him. He studiously ignored her. She groaned in disgust. "You never left?" she asked.

He finally glanced up. "While you were asleep, I was at the next crime scene," he said.

Her jaw dropped. "Another one?" she gasped.

"Yes. Ninth one. Canal Street. Room 109. Same MOD. No fingerprints. But get this." He dangled the evidence bag in front of him. Katie scrambled off of her chair and snatched the bag. "Found it in the bedside table."

"Y?"

"It's what he is calling himself, I guess."

"This is _huge_!" she crowed. "He left us a fucking note! Prints?" Harry rolled his eyes. She waved her hand flippantly and said, "Doesn't matter. He left us this! _He_ left it! This could be the big break."

"Sure hope so," Harry said.

"Talked to Robards yet?"

"He hasn't come in yet, so no. But I've already written up a profile on Y."

"If that doesn't get you into his good books, I don't know what will," Katie said with a smirk.

"Catching Y."

Katie laughed uproariously, nodding in ascent.

Gawain Robards was the Head Auror. After the War, his team had been greatly reduced due to death and injury. The impressive team of twenty had dwindled to a quarter of its size. He had a team of ten now. Five were new recruits. It was difficult to garner fresh blood because of the scare behind the intensive training regiment the trainees went through. Harry was among the five new graduates to make it in. Robards saw Harry as a potential threat to his position. He was hell bent on making Harry suffer through what little time he would spend being an Auror. That meant grunt work, mountains of red tape files, and cold cases being pushed onto Harry.

The new recruits were made to share a single room, which led to organized chaos and scattered paperwork that flowed into each other's space. One wall was lined with glass, letting in the, much needed, natural light. It kept them awake even after all-nighters. The desks were arranged in rows, a makeshift aisle forming in the middle. Two of the walls had floor-to-ceiling shelves filled with files and books that no one bothered reading but everyone insisted on keeping. Much like the Ministry, filled with people no one bothered meeting but everyone insisted on keeping.

The door swung open, slamming against the wall. "I come bearing gifts!" Anthony Goldstein announced with a wide grin and a box of steaming pumpkin pasties. Katie had the box in her hand in a matter of seconds, planning on hoarding them at her desk. "Hey!" Anthony snapped, frowning. "At least let me grab one."

"Merde!" Aldric Bouvier swore, scowling as he stomped into the office.

"Good morning to you too," Anthony said, raising a brow.

"Fils de salope!"

"Um… Okay."

Aldric looked up as though he had just noticed the occupants of the room. "Oh… Sorry," he murmured, blushing.

"The sweet sounds of cringe-worthy language. Love it," Katie said with an impish grin. "Anyways, as much as I'd like to hear who you're talking about, we have more important news to discuss. Guess what Harry found?"

"What?" Anthony asked, looking interested.

"Our ninth victim."

"Oh!"

"_And_," Harry added. "He left us a present." He held up the note.

"Whoa!" Anthony took the bagged note from Harry. "You're welcome? That's sick. Does he think he's doing us a favor?"

"Apparently so," Katie nodded. Aldric looked over Anthony's shoulder, frowning at the words. "Harry's done up a profile. Let's hear it, Harry."

Harry swallowed his bite and picked up the parchments. "We know the victims are always male wizards. We'll call the killer Y, since that's what he calls himself. There is never a sign of struggle. Minimal magical interference is seen in the bodies. If he uses a potion, it dissipates from the body quickly. He cuts them with Muggle techniques, not his wand."

"Well, all the victims we have so far have been somehow affiliated with the Dark Army," Katie said

"So Y thinks he is purging the world of the last of Voldemort's followers? That must be why he left the note," Anthony filled in.

"But the men were acquitted," Harry added, nodding at his fellow Aurors to continue.

"And so Y is taking matters into his own hands," Katie thought aloud.

"Maybe 'e lost 'is family in War?" Aldric said. "Revenge?"

"But the men were acquitted," Harry repeated deliberately. The three stared at Harry blankly. "You don't want to know _why_ they were acquitted?" Harry asked.

Anthony's eyes went wide. "Oh…" he breathed. "They gave us information…"

"Yes, they did," Harry answered. "The victims gave us names, locations, and dates. Which means the killer is…"

"Still a follower of Voldemort," Katie said, blinking at the note. "Then the note?"

"The note's not meant for us."

"Okay, spell it out for me," Anthony said, holding up his hands to bring the conversation to a standstill.

"Y is one of Voldemort's followers and he is killing men who betrayed the Dark Army," Harry stated.

Aldric sighed, massaging his temple. "You are sure of zis? Because if you are… ve have suspects."

Anthony smiled slowly as Aldric's words sunk it. "Holy hell! We have fucking suspects!" he exclaimed, pumping the air with his fists.

"And potential victims," Katie said, rushing to the door. "I'll get the files started," she informed her team before striding to the filing room.

"This is the big break!" Anthony said with a surprised laugh. "Good going, Harry!"

"Just doing my job," Harry said with a shrug.

* * *

Harry rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, kicking off his shoes and shuffling to the dark kitchen. He flicked on the lights with a wave of his hand. He poured himself a glass of Firewhiskey and walked to the dining room. The table was covered with files, photos, and maps.

Y and his victims were Harry's life.

All the bodies were found in motels in red-light districts around England. The first body was in room 101, the second in 102, and so on. The victims started showing up in their radar after the two similar murders. This was three years ago. Now there were nine bodies. All men were laid out in the same ritualistic manner. No fingerprints, no lasting traces of magic on the body. Y was a ghost; a ghost of the Dark Army. The first scene had been grisly. Blood stained everything, overflowing liter after liter and soaking into the carpet. The cut was imprecise and the skin was torn jaggedly. The murder weapon was deemed to be a crude knife. The second scene was a drastic improvement, as though Y had learnt his lesson. From then on, the crime scenes have gotten more clinical and neat. The first few victims were killed as an act of revenge. Now Y saw himself as something more – an artist and a hero.

The note unsettled Harry. Y was becoming more resilient and confident. Confidence leads to a feeling of superiority, which leads to more killings. Y is going to start killing more frequently.

Blaise Zabini, victim number 4. Harry had seen the photograph so many times that he had become desensitized. He stared at the image of the mutilated body, a familiar face. A familiar face twisted into an expression of torture. He is no more than the shell of a broken man. Harry added a copy of his profile onto the pile of files.

He moved away, sipping on his drink. He needed sleep. He needed to keep his mind from racing. He walked to his bedroom and pulled off his Auror robe, hanging it on the closet door. He was too tired to change. He plopped down onto the bed, grabbing his book from the bedside table. He settled against his pillows, crossing his legs. He finished his whiskey in a loud gulp, wincing as the heat burned his throat. He read the words in the book, unable to comprehend the meaning. He made a sound of frustration, placing the book facedown on his chest and closing his eyes. He hated sleep. Because sleep meant nightmares. He wondered why there weren't any Sleepless potions. What potion would Y give his victims? Does the potion cause them to lose control of their will to fight? Or is it a physical reaction? How does Y choose his victims? Why kill them this way? What goes on in his head? Does he think murder is justified? Who could it be? Why use Muggle tools? Cutting them open is horrifying. What is he trying to find? Find… Found…

"I found it!"

"What did you find?"

"My dream flat," Blaise said, holding his key up proudly.

"You can afford a flat?" Harry asked, earning a smack on the head.

"And…"

"And what?"

Blaise pressed the key into Harry's hand and leaned in. "That's your key," he whispered. "Come visit me…"

Harry opened the door. Blaise was screaming silently as blood flowed from his chest. The faceless killer ran the scalpel through the skin as though slicing through soft butter. Harry could do nothing but watch, falling to his knees. Blaise turned his head to look at Harry, pleading. Blood pooled around Harry, staining his clothes. He tried to scrub it off of him, but that only caused the blood to color his hands red.

"HARRY!"

Harry opened his eyes and turned around, wiping his tears against the pillow. A second later, he was asleep again.

* * *

"Damn it! Did you read the paper?" Anthony asked, throwing the Prophet onto Harry's desk. The front page read, **He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named Reaches from Beyond the Grave**.

"What?" Harry gasped, smoothing the paper out on his desk. "Robards…"

"He talked to the fucking press! What the hell is he thinking?"

"Kingsley is going to be pissed…" Harry muttered. The article outlined the crux of the case, from the nature of the victims to the theories. "He might as well have given them the entire case file," he said in anger.

"What does he expect us to do now? The place is going to be crawling with reporters soon."

"He nearly chewed me up yesterday for the 'half-arsed' profile," Harry said, scanning the article. "And now he gives it to them like it's the best shot we have."

Anthony sighed in frustration. "Look, whatever. We'll just have to work around all the bull. We've been doing that for years, haven't we?"

"This is going to make some people _very_ happy," Katie said, finishing up the article.

"For many different reasons."

"Yup."

Y killed a victim every three to four months. Which meant the Auror team had three to four months before the next body was found in room 110. Due to the lack of clues and substantial information, the cases were pushed away to make room for more pressing matters. The note may be the evidence that makes the case relevant again. The fact that the murders happen on Muggle grounds has made investigation difficult due to jurisdiction issues. Due to Kingsley's ties with the British Prime Minister, the cases were handed from the Muggle authorities to the Wizard authorities with relative ease. And, as Martin had said, Harry was a great liaison between the two worlds.

"Just wait 'til we start getting tips," Anthony chortled.

"I'm trying not to think about it. Robards will probably make us listen to all the statements. He wants all the glory and none of the spilled guts," Katie said, vehemently shoving the papers into a rough pile.

"You think he could give us the boot on the case?" Harry asked. He hadn't thought of that scenario.

"Who knows? If it becomes a huge case, yeah. He'll probably want to handle with the old-timers," Anthony said.

"Don't let them hear you," Katie said in mock fright.

"He'll go on and on about how we aren't the least bit qualified to handle such a big case."

"We've been on the team for five years!" Harry said. "How much more qualified do we have to be?"

"Politics. I say leave it be."

"And don't worry, Harry," Anthony added. "You'll be on the team for sure. No matter what Robards thinks, Kingsley will want you on the task force. The Muggles actually _talk_ to you about their cases. A first, from what I have heard."

"As long as you don't intimidate them, it's quite easy to work with them, actually," Harry said, dipping his quill in ink.

"You have the patience, more like it."

The three looked up when Aldric made his usual unusual entrance. His eyes were wide as he staggered in, leaning against his desk. "'E… 'e vill speak viz you, 'Arry," he said in astonishment.

Harry raised his brows while Katie shrugged. "Try again, Al. This time with a bit more detail," Anthony said slowly.

"Malfoy."

"Holy shit," Harry swore, nearly tripping over his feet as he stumbled around his desk and sprinted out of the room. He skidded down the corridor and stopped in front of the Head Auror's office. He knocked twice before throwing the door open. Robards looked up from his parchment, frowning when he recognized Harry.

"What is it?" the stocky man asked.

"Malfoy," Harry stammered. "He's agreed to talk to me. I need a visitor's badge."

Robards looked shocked. "I'm sorry?" he asked.

"To Azkaban. I need a visitor's badge."

* * *

Azkaban. Once the most dreaded island prison to house criminals. Compared to before the war, the facility was now a paradise. Dementors no longer guarded the inescapable building. The prison was a fortress of security charms and wizard wardens. Thestrals guarded the parameter, their keen eyes able to catch the slightest movement. There was one entryway that served as both the entrance and exit. Harry was wanded by three surly looking wizards in grey robes. He glanced up the high vaulted ceiling made of what looked like grey marble. The security desk was in the middle of the large stone room. Once Harry was let through, he strode to the desk. "Auror Harry Potter here to see Lucius Malfoy," he said quietly. The man nodded curtly, flicking his wand at one of the concealed doors that were scattered around the room. A guard stood at the door, beckoning Harry to follow him.

Lucius Malfoy was the only living ex-Death Eater the Ministry had captured who was part of Lord Voldemort's most trusted inner circle. Unfortunately, for the past ten years, he had been silent. His life sentence in Azkaban did not require him to cooperate with Auror investigation. He was not required to give information. But that hadn't stopped the team to try wheedling names out of the man. In ten years, Lucius had not asked for a visit. Now he insisted on Harry Potter. If Lucius Malfoy insisted on seeing Harry Potter, he will see Harry Potter. Harry was escorted to the interrogation room. The room was bare except for a table and two chairs. "He will be in shortly," the guard informed Harry. The Auror nodded and took one of the seats, trying to keep his nervousness at bay. The information Lucius could give Harry promises to be monumental. Harry hoped that was the reason for the visit.

Harry looked up when he heard the step clips of shoes against polished stone. For the first time in ten years, Harry laid his eyes on Lucius Malfoy. Gone were the long, blond hair and the aristocracy. Donning a red uniform and wearing his hair short, this man looked nothing like Lucius Malfoy. Harry stood up as Lucius entered the room. The guard cast a few silent spells in the room before turning to Harry and saying, "If you need anything, I will be by the door."

"Thank you," Harry murmured. He waited until the guard had closed the door to look at Lucius again. Lucius stared back impassively. "Have a seat," Harry said, waving at the chair. Lucius sat down and Harry followed suit. "Why did you want to see me?"

Lucius smirked without bite. "No time for pleasantries?"

"I assume you didn't call me to exchange pleasantries."

"Fair assumption," Lucius murmured. "I have information."

"But you want something in return."

Lucius nodded. "It's how information works, isn't it? You have something I want and I have something you need," he said.

"Unreasonable demands can't be met," Harry warned mildly.

"This demand is not unreasonable."

"Let's hear it."

Lucius sat back, hands on the table. "Protection," he said.

"From?"

"Y."

Harry frowned. "He can't touch you here," he said.

"Not for me…"

Harry sat back as well, mirroring the prisoner. "Oh…"

"Promise me protection and I will tell you what you need to know."

* * *

**A/N:** Ugh, gory enough? Might have something to do with the fact that I'm listening to Enrique Iglesias on repeat. I guess I'll listen to this song as I write all the chapters. Which means the story will only get worse from here. By worse, I mean better.


	2. Chapter 2: Scarhead and Ferret

"Malfoy will give us information if we provide protective detail for his son," Harry said, shifting his weight uncomfortably.

Robards' eyes narrowed. "That is absurd. He wants us to waste manpower babysitting his boy?" he asked.

"He has information, sir. A lot of it. He has what we need."

"And next time we need him, he is going to ask for a lesser sentence?" Robards sneered.

"You aren't seeing the bigger picture. He can help us solve a lot of the cold cases," Harry argued.

Robards shook his head in contempt. "Well, tell him we will give him what he demands. I will work out the formalities," he muttered.

Harry wondered what that meant. Was he going to have to lie to Lucius?

* * *

"The Head Auror has agreed," Harry said.

Lucius laughed humorlessly. "Why don't you believe your own words, Potter?" he asked.

Harry looked unimpressed. "He said he would give your son the protection he needs. What we need from you are names and dates of crimes."

Lucius eyed Harry for a long while, keeping silent. Harry watched the cold greys flicker with hidden thoughts and emotions. "You have changed," Lucius noted with a vague wave towards Harry's eyes. Harry frowned in response. "You hide yourself well. Better than before. I can hardly read you," Lucius explained.

"It's the training," Harry murmured.

Lucius smiled to himself. "But you aren't as good as me. I know you are lying," he said.

"It is my superior's decision to make. He says he will cooperate if you do," Harry said carefully.

"You don't believe him. So why should I believe you?"

"It doesn't matter if I don't believe him. You can believe me when I tell you that your son will be safe," Harry said out of impulse.

"You will?"

"I have the right connections. I can bypass the Head Auror, if need be."

"You would do that?" Lucius pondered.

"I would do that."

Lucius nodded slowly, thinking over Harry's words. "You really don't think much of me, do you?" he asked.

"Should I?" Harry asked.

"I would do anything for my family."

"I am not concerned with your motives," Harry explained. "All I am interested in is solving some of the cases that are, as of yet, unsolved."

"I want you to protect my son."

Harry pushed off of the table and got up in frustration. "How often do you insist on saying this?"

"I'm being specific," Lucius said, unfazed by Harry's impatience.

"Specific?"

"I want _you_ to protect Draco."

Harry's brows knitted. "You can't be serious," he said.

"I don't have a need to joke."

"Why me?"

Lucius gave Harry a genuine smile. "You are the best on the Auror team. I know you will keep him safe."

* * *

Harry slammed the door shut. "Fucking son of a bitch," he swore, kicking the chair over.

"What's wrong?" Katie asked, worried. Harry never lost his cool.

"He's fucking with me, that's what," Harry growled, trying to calm down by taking deep breaths.

"Who?" Aldric asked.

"Our bastard boss," Harry muttered, rubbing the back of his neck tiredly. "I went to see Malfoy again today."

"And?"

"And he wants _me_ to make sure Malf– Draco is kept safe. Robards _wholeheartedly_ agrees. Fuck them both," Harry said, shuffling to his desk. "I'm sick of this shit."

"We've been sick of it for years," Anthony said sympathetically.

"What do you mean, protection?" Katie asked.

"How the hell should I know?" Harry snarled, flicking open a file furiously. He closed his eyes, reigning in his anger. "Sorry," he murmured, looking at Katie. "I don't know. Robards is dealing with it. Knowing him, he'll probably get me off of all the cases to focus on this job."

"'E 'as protection already. Vat are you supposed to do?"

Being the heir to the Malfoy Empire and the target of more than a few assassination attempts, Draco Malfoy was a sensation with his lavish lifestyle and impetuous behavior. He was a celebrity – loved by women, hated by all. What right does an ex-Death Eater have to live that way? The thought boiled Harry's blood. Draco had an entourage at most times, skilled hit wizards. If Y ever went after Draco, Harry wouldn't be surprised if the killer was struck dead with four different maiming spells. While Harry had more skill than the hit wizards, the latter were trained in security and providing protection for their employer.

Harry didn't have to wait long to find out what his assignment was.

"You will be working with Mr. Malfoy's security team."

Harry all but blew up in Robards' office.

* * *

Draco was in front of the full-length mirror, pulling his cuffs down with a smart tug. The door opened a crack. "May I come in, sir?"

"Yes," Draco said, running a hand down his tie to lay it flat.

"Auror Harry Potter is here," the man said.

Draco frowned, checking his watch. "Early." He brushed his hair absentmindedly. "I will be right down."

Harry stood in the large foyer, remembering the incidents that had occurred a decade ago. It had changed everyone's lives. From the looks of it, it had changed Draco's for the better. Harry glanced up in time to see Draco walking down the stairs with one of his bodyguards, talking in a hushed tone. Harry rolled his eyes, stifling his exasperated sigh. Draco flicked his eyes at Harry, brows arching up in surprise. The man in the lobby looked almost nothing like the boy ten years ago. The Auror had his hands in the pockets of his tailored suit. His black, unruly hair was cut short to a manageable length. Gone was the slouch. The uncertain shuffling was non-existent. There was something about the man that was bothering Draco. Harry met Draco's watchful eyes. Draco saw it now. "Hmm… Got rid of your glasses, Potter?" Draco asked, a familiar smirk on his lips. Harry didn't bother answering, looking at Draco indifferently. "Good evening to you too," Draco muttered. He gestured to the large man beside him. "This is Carter. He is the head of security. He will show you around the house. I am sure you can work the details out without me." With that, Draco left for the study. Harry glared at Carter, who was glaring right on back.

"I'll show you the security office," the man said, turning on his heel and walking towards the inconspicuous door beside the banister. Harry followed wordlessly. The door opened into a large space with two desks, a wall covered with what looked like schedules, and a bed. "At least one of us will be with Mr. Malfoy at all times. When in public, all four of us guard him. When at home, we have one at the main entrance, one patrolling the manor, and one or two actively protecting him. At night, one guard is posted outside his bedroom and the shift switches off at two in the morning."

"Is he on a schedule?" Harry asked, scanning the wall of notes.

"Up at six or seven, breakfast at nine. That's it for routine," Carter said, a hint of amusement in his tone.

"What does he do after, usually?"

"Meetings, business or pleasure. Lunch could be at these meetings or somewhere else. Social events in the evening. He could get home anywhere between nine or midnight. Like I said, no real schedule."

"Four men, you said?" Harry asked.

"Yes."

"Guess it's five now," Harry mumbled, lifting a parchment to read the one underneath. "What do you need me to do?"

Carter frowned. "Oh…" he said hesitantly.

"Hmm?" Harry asked, turning to the man.

Carter's frown deepened. "Really?"

"I'm sorry?" Harry said, confused.

"I thought you were taking charge," Carter said.

Carter noticed a vague smile on the Auror. "I don't know the first thing about security detail," Harry deadpanned. "He'd be dead in a day if I was in charge."

"You wouldn't mind taking orders from me?"

Harry chuckled. "Never said I wouldn't mind it, did I?" he asked. "If I have anything to add to the way Malfoy's being handled, I'll let you know. Until then, I'll do as you say."

"First time I'm working with an Auror," Carter said.

"We aren't as awful as you think," Harry said.

"I'm starting to think not…"

That evening, Harry met the three others in the team. Dane hardly talked, looking surly and distrusting. Wes had an easy smile and a lot of words in him. Kyler was the youngest at twenty-four, eager and jumpy. Harry was impressed by the choices Carter made. Together, the four had a rather scary repertoire. Dane used to work at Azkaban before the War. Wes used to work for Muggle dignitaries. Kyler had been part of the underground army that fought during the War, keeping the vulnerable safe from Snatchers. Carter had been working in private security for twenty years. Then there was Harry.

"Alright," Carter said loudly once the casual chatter died down. "Schedule for tonight. Mr. Malfoy will be going to the Sunset." He glanced at Harry, a wicked smile reaching his eyes. "Let's put Mr. Potter to the test, shall we? Kyler and Harry will be with Mr. Malfoy. The rest of us will secure the perimeter."

"What does that mean?"

Kyler nudged Harry with a smirk. "Means we're going clubbing," he said.

"What?"

* * *

Sunset was an exclusive club for millionaires and the likes. And in that very moment, Harry hated his life enough to contemplate murder. Murder of Draco Malfoy. Kyler seemed to be enjoying himself. Which only caused Harry to hate his life even more. The modern club was crawling with half-drunk women hunting for wealthy men. From the looks of it, the wealthy men were hunting for half-drunk women as well. Mutually beneficial, Kyler had said. Harry was in the shadows, nursing his drink while keeping an eye on Draco. Neither had spoken since the first meeting. Harry planned on keeping it that way. He let the slow thumping music lull him into his thoughts. Lucius had stayed true to his words. Cases were being reopened at record speed – disappearances, unknown deaths, tortures, and such. Harry supposed he should be happy that he helped with those cases. If his mind weren't filled with Y and his victims, he would be happy. But that was not the case. Harry wondered if Lucius had any names of suspects with regards to Y. He wondered how difficult it would be to convince Robards into letting him keep working on Y. Somehow, Robards' thoughts were that the next victim would provide another clue into Y. Harry didn't want there to be another victim.

"You're Harry Potter, aren't you?"

Harry looked up, blinking to focus on the inebriated young woman in front of him. "Yes," he said.

"Wow! What are _you_ doing here?" she asked, crawling onto the plush white leather sofa. Harry gestured to his drink. "I didn't think you were the type to come to clubs," she breathed, leaning in.

"Not usually," Harry muttered, leaning away.

"Care to dance?" she asked hopefully.

"I'm not big on dancing," he said. "Ask him," he pointed to Kyler who was already dancing with a blonde.

"He's not as cute as you," she said, batting her lashes.

"Hmm…" Harry murmured. "Still, the answer's no."

She pouted, wrapping an arm around Harry. "I guess I'll just have to make you say yes," she said, biting her lip.

Harry was about to push her away gently when his gaze slipped to the familiar woman behind his ardent fan. The brunette tapped the drunk girl on the shoulder and whispered something into her ear. Harry was surprised when the girl let go of him glumly and slid out of the booth. The brunette smiled faintly, slipping in beside Harry. "Hello," she said.

"Um… No?" Harry said, uncertain.

She laughed musically. "I heard. I'm Astoria," she said.

Harry put the name and face together. "Oh! I knew I had seen you before," he said. "A year below me, right?"

"Yes. Slytherin."

Harry smiled back. "Didn't think I'd find a familiar face in here," he said.

"Besides Draco, you mean?"

Harry glanced at Draco. "I'll rephrase. Didn't think I'd find a friendly familiar face in here."

"You came in with him… Which is weird," she said, motioning for the waitress.

"It's even weirder if I tell you why," Harry mumbled.

"Oh?"

"I'm his security."

"Oh!" Her expression showed her shock.

"I know…"

"Aren't you an Auror?" she asked.

"Apparently Auror means the Head Auror's lackey."

"You were _ordered_ to protect Draco? That sucks," she said.

"You're telling me… What have you been up to?" Harry asked.

"Dad insists I take over the business, so I've been learning the tricks of the trade," she said.

"You have a sister, don't you?"

"Yes. Daphne. She's not interested in what Dad's doing. So I'm the next 'heir'."

"Good luck with that."

Astoria nodded distractedly. Then she looked back at Harry. "You know the reason I'm talking to you, right?" she asked.

Harry shrugged. "You're being nice?"

She thanked the waitress and taking her martini from the tray. "That's sweet of you," she said, grinning at Harry. "But no. I have an ulterior motive."

"Ah, you Slytherins," Harry said, shaking his head.

She leaned in conspiringly and said, "I'm trying to make Draco jealous."

"Oh. Damn."

She laughed happily at Harry's response. "You're refreshing!" she exclaimed. "I know, I know… Pathetic, right? But whatever works. He keeps looking at us. Score one for me."

"Why don't you just… I don't know, talk to him?" Harry asked. He didn't like the idea of being used that way, although it was rather amusing.

"He's not a talker. He's more a – um…" She looked at Harry suggestively.

Harry blanched, pulling a face. "Ugh!"

"Anyways, my friends are giving me the evil eye, so I have to go. Thanks for the chat. Maybe I'll see you around?"

"I'll be around as long as Malfoy's alive," Harry said in defeat.

She kissed Harry's cheek and winked. "You'll do, Harry," she said. She sidled out of the booth and walked away.

Harry sighed in confusion, sitting back. The table shook as Kyler bumped against it in his hurry to get to Harry. "Whoa, watch it," Harry said, saving his drink from falling.

"Dude, what the hell are you doing with her?" Kyler asked in trepidation.

"Um… I didn't do anything," Harry said, wondering if he had broken one of Carter's unwritten rules.

"She's Mr. Malfoy's woman."

"What does that mean?"

"What do you think it means? Mr. Malfoy kind of likes her, you know."

Harry snorted in derision. "Well, that's just great," he said sardonically.

"He's going to be in a bad mood tonight," Kyler grumbled, slumping against the couch.

"Whoa," Harry said, holding his hands up in surrender. "I didn't do anything, remember? She likes him too. She's just trying to get him jealous. Guess it's working."

Kyler blinked at Harry. "Wait, wait, wait," he said. "She _likes_ him?"

"It's what she told me."

"No way!" Kyler gushed, suddenly scheming. "She's making him jealous? You're sure?"

"She thinks she's sure," Harry said helplessly.

"Smart lady," Kyler said, amazed.

"This doesn't strike you as desperate?" Harry asked.

"A lot of women are desperate to get with Mr. Malfoy," Kyler explained.

"I think I'm going to hurl," Harry muttered, taking a swig of his drink.

* * *

Harry jerked awake when the doorbell rang. He glanced at the clock and groaned, falling back onto his pillows. "Go away," he said hoarsely, hiding his head inside his covers. The bell rang insistently. After the sixth ring, Harry decided to get up. He was scowling as he opened the door.

"I am _so_ sorry," Ron said, hugging Harry.

"I was sleeping," Harry grumbled, pushing Ron away and trying to close the door on him. Ron easily overpowered Harry, getting into the house before Harry could shut him out. "Go away," Harry whined, shuffling back to his bedroom blindly.

"You aren't going to ask me how the honeymoon was?" Ron asked, leading Harry into the drawing room instead.

"I'm so tired," Harry sighed, sitting on his sofa heavily. Ron sat beside him. "How was the honeymoon?"

"Fantastic!" Ron said excitedly.

"Good to know," Harry yawned, closing his eyes.

"Sucks that you get stuck with Malfoy, though," Ron said, poking Harry awake.

"I know," Harry mumbled.

"Have you talked to Kingsley?"

Harry nodded. "He thinks I should do as Malfoy– um… Lucius Malfoy says. We're solving those cases now, aren't we? Once we find Y, I won't have to bother with Malf– Draco Malfoy ever again."

"He's still a prick?"

"More so now than ever."

"Your luck's never gonna turn, is it?"

"Doesn't look like it…"

* * *

"Heard you were sweet talking Astoria Greengrass last night," Wes said, laughing maniacally.

"I wasn't!" Harry insisted. "She was sweet talking me!"

"You want to know what Mr. Malfoy did to the last person who tried to have a go at her?"

"I wasn't having a go at her!"

"Well… He didn't really do anything. Just scared the guy shitless. Haven't seen that joker around the clubs since."

"But I –"

"Didn't do anything," Kyler and Carter said in unison. "We know."

"Word of advice? Don't bother with her. Not unless you want Mr. Malfoy to make your life a living hell."

"He's already doing that," Harry groused.

The men laughed at Harry's expense, reading over their schedule for the day. Hell started at ten. Harry felt Draco's scathing glare, but chose to ignore it as always. The first appointment was at an investment firm. They disapparated from the manor to the business centre of Wizarding London. As they made their way to the elevators, Draco said, "Didn't know Father's authority reached so high up, Potter." Harry had to stop from smiling at the low blow. He didn't answer, keeping his eyes on the elevator. "Good to know that he hasn't lost his touch," Draco added, tightening his tie. "Are you that awful of an Auror that they couldn't wait to get rid of you?"

"I'm that great of an Auror."

Now Draco had to stop from smiling. "First words out of your mouth and it's self-praise," he murmured.

"You must be rubbing off on me."

The rest of the security team look at Harry in horror and tried to signal him into shutting up. "I'm your boss right now, you know?" Draco asked.

"Keep telling yourself that."

Draco looked at Harry sharply. Harry didn't meet the glare. The elevator doors opened. The men stepped inside, atmosphere tense. "You probably used Kingsley to make your way into the force, huh? Did you even pass your NEWTs?" Draco asked.

"I was so good, I didn't even have to write it."

Draco felt a fierce scowl growing on his face. "At least I didn't have to kiss arse to get this far," he said.

"No. You just mooched off your Death Eater father, didn't you?"

Draco whipped around. "Fuck you, Scarhead," he spat out.

Harry didn't even flinch. "Name calling. Real smooth," he said quietly.

Draco clenched his fists and turned away, humiliated.

"Ferret."

Draco snorted in amusement before he could stop himself. He clapped his hand to his mouth in horror. Harry smiled as the elevator reached its destination and pinged open. Draco was the first to get out, conflicting emotions playing in him. Harry followed. The four other men were too stunned to know what to do. Harry looked back and motioned for them to get out of the elevator. They stumbled out and walked faster to catch up to Harry and Draco. Draco entered the boardroom, not daring to look at Harry again. Harry closed the door after him, turning to face the wide-eyed men.

"What the hell?" Kyler asked breathlessly. "How are you not dead?"

"You two know each other?" Carter asked.

"Hmm… Sure," Harry said, trying to keep his mirth at bay. "It was always Dementors, then Malfoy, then Voldemort, then Death Eaters."

"What?" Dane asked.

"We went to school together. He was in Slytherin and I was in Gryffindor. We… hate each other. Have hated each other for most of our lives."

"Whoa…"

"Now you can imagine my surprise at being asked to protect him, can't you?" Harry asked.

"No way," Wes said, looking off into the distance. "I've never seen anyone get the upper hand when it came to a conversation with Mr. Malfoy. You're something else."

"He's one of the handful who would dare talk to me like that," Harry murmured, realizing that fact. "Weird…"

"You're the _only_ person who would dare talk to him like that, I'd bet."

Harry shrugged. "Like I said, we go back a long way."

"I can't wait for the next fight!" Kyler said in excitement.

"Trust me, you'll know when we start fighting. There's blood and gore."

"But he is so put together," Wes said. "I think this is the first time I've seen his lose his temper like that."

"Or laugh like that. He snorted, did you hear it?" Kyler asked, laughing jovially.

"Wait… You called him a ferret?" Carter asked, chuckling as he said the words.

"He called me Scarhead, so… yes."

"Won't tell us why?"

"He wouldn't appreciate it," Harry murmured. "So… yeah, I'll tell you," he grinned.

* * *

"How's the case coming along?" Harry asked Ron, biting into his sandwich.

"The problem with the suspects is that we can't find any of them. They've probably all gone into hiding or changed identities. So we're absolutely nowhere," Ron said.

"How about finding possible victims?"

"We are starting on that this week."

"Hmm..."

"How is the _job_?"

"I'd go crazy if it were just me. Malfoy's security team's pretty cool actually. It's relaxing. Gives me time to think about these cases. I'm getting my head cleared, which is good."

"He's not giving you a hard time, is he?"

"No. I'm giving him a hard time, though."

"Perfect," Ron said, grinning evilly.


	3. Chapter 3: Torture

"Seriously, how often does he come here?" Harry asked Wes.

"Every week," Wes said nonchalantly. "It's where all his friends are, so it's like a night out with them, you know?" They were back in Sunset. Carter thought he was being funny by making Harry and Wes go in. Harry was back in his spot, sulking, while Wes was happily having the shrimp cocktails.

"Hey, you," Astoria said, sitting down next to Harry. Wes conveniently disappeared.

Harry smiled uncomfortably. "Look, I understand why you feel like you need to… make Malfoy jealous," he winced as he said the last part. "But it's really bothering him."

"Good. Let it bother him," Astoria said stubbornly.

"No. I mean, like, _really_ bothers him."

She frowned. "Like how?"

"He likes you. So… you know… He's making my life miserable for talking to you."

Her eyes were shining with enthusiasm. "Yeah?" she asked.

"Believe me when I say yes," Harry said, thankful that Astoria finally got it.

"No, not that! You think he likes me?"

Harry leaned back. "Don't take my word for it. It's what the security team says. 'Don't mess with Astoria because Mr. Malfoy likes her.' So this is me _not_ messing with you," he said.

"Oh my gosh! Okay, calm down, Astoria," she said, breathing calmly. "I'll play this by the ear. Should I… ask him to dance, you think?"

"How should I know?" Harry asked, wondering when he became the matchmaker.

She hugged him tight. "You're so awesome, Harry," she said, getting up from her seat. "Fingers crossed!" she added, giggling, before walking up to Draco.

"But I didn't even do anything," Harry mumbled to himself, sighing.

Wes slid in, looking horrified. "Um… Why did she hug you?" he asked.

"Because I told her that Malfoy liked her," Harry said, rolling his eyes. "This entire club is filled with crazies."

"Mr. Malfoy looked about ready to throw a dagger at you."

Harry chuckled, shaking his head. "Well, whatever. Astoria's asking him to dance and he'll forget all about me," he said.

Sure enough, the night dragged on and Draco never let go of Astoria. And from the looks of it, neither let go of their instantly replenishing glasses of drinks. They were stumbling into each other as the night drew to a close. Harry and Wes gagged when they caught Draco and Astoria eating each other's lips passionately. They pulled the snogging couple out of the club. "Come to my place?" Draco panted.

"Of course," Astoria said happily.

"Um…" Harry said, looking at Carter. Carter had a half-hidden look of amusement on his face, nodding at Harry. "Okay, then…" They apparated to the Malfoy Manor. Draco pulled Astoria up the stairs while the five other men stood downstairs, trying not to burst before the boss was safe in his room. The moment the door slammed shut, Harry broke down into hysterical laughter. This was amazing blackmail material that he would have to share with _everyone_. Wes and Kyler had to hold onto each other to keep upright. Dane and Carter smiled at the three men.

"Guess what, Potter?" Carter said.

"What?" Harry asked, panting.

"You're on duty by the bedroom today."

His laughs died down while Wes and Kyler fell to the ground, clutching their stomachs that were cramping. "N– no! No way! No way am I… they're– I don't want to hear– that's just– no way!" Harry stammered.

"Unfortunately, yes," Carter said, pushing Harry towards the stairs.

"Don't make me do this," Harry said piteously. By now, Wes was coughing hoarsely while trying to laugh.

"No can do. Says so in the schedule."

"I bet Mr. Malfoy did this on purpose," Kyler said, snorting.

Harry's eyes went wide. "He wouldn't!"

"Oh, he would…"

Harry tried to beg his way out of guarding Draco's door. No one wanted to hear it. He slumped in defeat, glaring at the men. Then he started his somber march towards the dreaded room where things he never wanted to imagine Draco doing were happening. He hadn't even reach the landing when he started hearing the moans and groans. He tried casting a silencing charm on the door. It didn't stick because of the plethora of other wards placed on it. Harry tried pushing his fingers in his ears. It just dampened the sound. He kicked the door vehemently. There was no pause in the creaks and gasps. Harry sat on the chair by the door, plagued by Astoria and Draco having sex no more than three meters from him. He cringed, trying to think of what he could do to keep himself from throwing up. He flicked his wand towards the stairs. His Auror files came flying up towards him. Something more horrific than sex noises should help keep his food down. He sat on the ground and spread the parchments and photographs chronologically on the ground.

The murders were never supposed to be assigned to the junior Aurors. But by the time the third body was found with no discernible clues, the senior Aurors realized that they could be chasing their tails for another year. The case was transferred to the junior Aurors. It had been cause for much excitement since it was the first real case the younger generation was going to work on. The enthusiasm soon turned into desperation as they tried to grapple onto any sliver of evidence they could get. At that point, they weren't able to find a pattern. There were only three victims. All the murders looked like crimes of personal vendetta. Then the fourth victim turned up. The first of the bodies the young Aurors saw carved by Y.

Harry had lost consciousness the moment he clapped eyes on the body. No one thought twice of it. It happens frequently with such cases. Personal trauma coupled with the sight of a mutilated body can lead to shock. Katie and Ron were throwing up on the site. They were sent home. Harry remembered the day as clearly as he remembered his first day at Hogwarts.

He opened the door to Blaise's apartment with shaking hands. "Blaise?" he whispered hoarsely. "Blaise," he called out, clearing his throat. He staggered into their bedroom, finding the sheets unmade. Blaise had been there that morning, sleeping as Harry left for work. Harry pushed the bathroom door open. There was no one in there. He sobbed dryly, feeling his way to the drawing room as his chest ached. "Please, Blaise." He finished in the kitchen where he had left Blaise a cup of coffee. The empty mug sat in the sink. "BLAISE!" Harry screamed, falling to his knees and cradling his head in his hands. "Come back! I'm sorry, please," he cried, unable to breathe. "Don't leave me," he gasped. "I love you! Please, Blaise, I love you! Come back," he mumbled, fainting onto the cold tiles.

When he woke up, it was morning. He stared at the grey stone, feeling dead. He sat up and leaned against the wall, pulling his knees to his chest. He cried himself sick, running to the bathroom and heaving into the toilet. He was weak and shaking by the time he gained some sense. He pushed himself up, wiping his eyes and mouth with the back of his hand. He took his wand out and gripped it painfully. He stared at himself in the mirror, ashen and in pain. He brought the wand up to his chest and stared into his own glassy eyes. His heart beat unnaturally quickly, contradicting his numb emotions. He wanted to be dead like Blaise – lifeless and unfeeling. Then nothing will hurt. Then he won't cry when the people he loved died. He wanted to die. He dug the end of his wand into his chest. But when he opened his mouth, all that came out was a tortured scream. He dropped his wand and slid to the floor, screaming. He screamed until he was out of breath. Then he took in another lungful of painful air and screamed his voice out. And he kept screaming soundlessly, the image burned into his eyes. He closed his eyes in terror. The image became real. He was going out of his mind. He scrambled off of the floor and ran out of the apartment, apparating to his house. He tore the house apart, trying to wrench the picture of the bloody and mangled body out of his head.

Luna found him the next day, cradling a broken hand and sobbing on the stairs. She set his hand straight and pulled him into a warm hug. He fell asleep in her arms. He was dragged out of his sleep by Luna's soft words a day later. He blinked his eyes open to find himself in his bed. His hand was clutching Luna's tightly, never wanting to let go. "Blaise," he said voicelessly.

"You loved him?" Luna asked.

"He's gone."

"But you're not, Harry."

"I want to. I want to die, Luna. Please," he begged.

She shook her head firmly. "You shouldn't want to die. You should want to live, now more than ever. Find out _why_ he died. You should help him, Harry."

"Help?"

"I'll help you. Don't cry," she whispered, kissing Harry's forehead. Luna was the only person who knew. She was the only person Harry needed.

Harry stared at the image he had been seeing for the past two years. He wished he could erase the anguished expression from Blaise's face. It didn't suit him. "You look better when you smile," he murmured, turning the photo over. "You made me smile too, remember?" He sniffed, swallowing the lump in his throat as he picked up the file of the fifth victim.

"Who?"

Harry nearly jumped out of his skin. He turned around so quickly, his neck cracked. "Ow," he muttered, massaging his neck. Draco was standing behind him in his pajama bottoms, looking ruffled. "Um… Wow," Harry deadpanned.

"I know, right?" Draco said, kneeling down. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing," Harry said quickly, coming to his senses. He wondered how long Draco had been standing there. He stacked papers haphazardly. Before he could reach the fourth, Draco flipped the photo over. "No," Harry breathed.

"Oh god," Draco inhaled, dropping the photo. "That's… that's…"

Harry grabbed the photo and stuffed it in the file jacket. "You aren't supposed to see them," he said.

"Blaise…"

Harry felt like a knife had plunged into his heart. He kept his head down as he pushed all the parchment away inside the folder. No one was allowed to call victim number 4 Blaise except for Harry. To hear Draco say it hurt more than imaginable. "Go to sleep," Harry said quietly.

"Blaise made you smile…"

Harry's mask was dissolving. He turned away quickly, trying to pull himself together. He glanced at his watch. It was almost two. "You have an early meeting tomo–"

Draco wrenched Harry around and held him steady with a firm hand under his chin. Harry tried to push away but Draco held on. Harry's tears fell and he waited for his breakdown. But instead of losing control again, he found Draco's eyes strengthening him. He saw reflected pain, like looking in the mirror two years ago. He felt the sadness dissolving in him as he felt Draco's heart under his palm. Draco's grip left Harry's chin, resting on his cheek lightly. "You loved him?" Draco whispered. Harry didn't answer, drinking in Draco's strength. "He was my best friend, Harry…"

"I'm sorry," Harry murmured, watching tears fall from Draco's eyes. "Don't cry."

Draco smiled, closing his eyes and swallowing hard. He let go of Harry. "Sorry," he said, clearing his throat and wiping his eyes. "Yeah, I should probably go to sleep."

"Yeah."

They nodded, moving back. Draco closed the bedroom door quietly while Harry brushed away his own tears. He made sure he hadn't left anything on the ground. He heard a creak and pulled his wand out, pointing it at the stairs in a flash.

"Just me," Dane murmured.

"Oh," Harry said, his stalled heart starting up again. "Give me some warning next time," he mumbled.

"What was that about?"

Harry's jaw dropped. "Wh– what?" he stammered.

"Who were you talking about?"

Harry hurried to the stairs. "Just a case I'm working on," he said.

Dane stopped Harry with a hand on his shoulder. "You were crying," he noted.

"I've had enough embarrassment for today," Harry said, glaring at Dane.

"Hmm…" Dane said, letting go of Harry. "Mr. Malfoy likes Astoria."

"Yeah. A lot. In bed. That's all I've been hearing for the past couple hours," Harry said sarcastically.

"He likes you more," Dane finished. "Sleep on that." He walked to his post, leaving a stunned Harry on the stairs.

"He wants to have sex with me?" Harry stuttered, turning to Dane.

"Go home," Dane said, shooing Harry away.

* * *

Harry stared up at his ceiling with a smile on his lips and his hands under his head. He was remembering Blaise and his pompous expressions. He chuckled, turning over.

"Potter," Blaise had said coolly, looking down his nose at Harry.

Harry hadn't bothered with a greeting then, merely glowering at the man. He was the one acquiring information from the ex-Slytherin. "Let's start," he had said, opening his notes and dipping his quill in ink.

So started a weeklong exchange of curt words and quick writing. They spent a couple hours each day going over certain cases that Blaise had insight on, trying to jog his memory. Through the course of seven days, Blaise had never once tried to get on Harry's good books. Harry found himself in the presence of a very proud man with a short fuse. He often snapped at Harry over almost nothing. Harry was good at keeping the peace, so their meetings always ended without bloodshed. On the last day of interrogation, Blaise asked a question. And Harry fell right into his trap.

"How secure is this room?"

Harry was caught off-guard. "What do you mean?" he asked.

"Is anyone watching or listening to us?"

It was a lapse of judgment. Harry had thought that Blaise had something important to tell him. So he told the truth. "No. This room is secure."

Blaise reached across the table and grabbed Harry forward by the collar. He forced his lips onto Harry, pulling him onto the table and crawling on top of him. Harry dealt a hard punch that caught Blaise on the jaw. He grabbed Harry's hands and slammed them against the tabletop, his lips pushing down demandingly. Harry bit Blaise. He swore and picked his head up, glaring at Harry. "Do you enjoy hurting me?" Blaise snarled.

"Yes," Harry muttered, reaching up and kissing Blaise hungrily. Blaise slipped his knee between Harry's legs, kneading wantonly. Harry gasped, arching his back.

"You're fucking hot, Potter," Blaise panted, letting go of Harry's wrists to work on his shirt.

An illicit relationship sparked, away from friends and coworkers, in the safety of their homes. Sex had been rough, borderline violent at points. Neither man liked to accept defeat. It led to many bruises and sprains. But as the months wore on, Harry became aware of Blaise's lingering kisses and soft caresses. Blaise found himself yearning for Harry's breaths against his skin. They didn't even notice the year pass by. They were in love. There was nothing else to notice. They thrilled to be in each other's company. They loved the warm nights. They needed each other.

But try as he might, Harry was never able to remember the last morning they had spent together. He remembered waking up early because of his shift. He remembered kissing Blaise before getting out of bed. He remembered making coffee and placing a cup out for his boyfriend. But… he couldn't remember what Blaise had looked like that morning. He couldn't remember if Blaise had said anything to him or kissed him back or hugged him. He couldn't remember.

Harry shook those thoughts out of his head, thinking about their nights in bed instead. He closed his eyes, imagining Blaise sleeping beside him as he clung to his pillow. "Thanks for being amazing, Blaise."

Now, what had Dane meant? Draco likes Harry more than Astoria. Was he attracted to Harry? Not that Harry noticed, what with all the fierce scowls and sharp words. But that night… Harry had known that Draco was once Blaise's best friend. He didn't think Draco's notion of best friend lasted that long. The tears that Draco let slip were heartbreaking. It distracted Harry from his own sorrow. Why was Draco so sad? Did they split on bad terms? Did Draco wish he could hug Blaise one last time, just as Harry wished?

* * *

Harry was rounding the corner from the kitchen, finishing his patrolling, when he nearly ran over Astoria. They jumped back, yelping in fright. Harry had his wand out, but he quickly lowered it when he noticed Astoria's frightened and slightly embarrassed face. "Sorry," they stammered in unison. Astoria looked like she had had a wild night, hair curled around her sleepy face and wearing what looked like Draco's shirt and shorts. She had every right to be embarrassed. "I was– um… the– kitchen?" she asked, flustered.

Harry smiled warmly and said, "I'll show you the place." He led her into the kitchen. "Did you want coffee?" he asked.

"Do you know if there's any juice?" she asked.

"What _doesn't_ he have in this mansion?" Harry chuckled, flicking his wand. "Orange is fine?"

"Yes, that's fine." Harry floated the glass to the woman. She took a quick gulp, sighing as it refreshed her. "What do you think Draco wants?" she asked.

"A _really_ black coffee," Draco groaned, shuffling into the kitchen with puffy eyes. "I have a meeting in half-hour."

Harry rolled his eyes, pouring Draco a cup of coffee and handing it over. "Think you'll be ready?"

"I'm never late for an appointment, Potter," Draco said groggily, sipping his coffee. "Merlin, this is amazing," he sighed, walking back to his room. "See you in a bit."

Once he was out of earshot, Astoria turned to Harry with raised brows. "He's rather chipper today, isn't he?" she asked.

"Yeah. He does seem that way," Harry murmured. "Maybe last night did a number on him." Astoria swatted Harry over the head for that glib comment. She scowled good-naturedly before following Draco. Harry smiled to himself, shaking his head.

* * *

Harry was standing outside the club, keeping the snow off of him as best as he could. The Heating Charms worked everywhere but his face. He puffed out the smoke, tapping his cigarette to get rid of the ash. Carter was doing his rounds at the moment. Harry had ten minutes to kill before taking over. He kept an eye out for suspicious activity.

"Are you _smoking_?" Harry turned to find Draco looking at him disdainfully. He smiled, pulled a deep drag from the cigarette and blew it in Draco's face. Draco gagged, moving away. "Put it out!"

"I don't want to," Harry said, going back to surveying the street.

"Since when do you smoke?" Draco asked, trying to grab it from Harry's hand.

Harry shrugged, looking down at the small flare of orange at the end of the cigarette. "Not long," he said vaguely, bringing it up to his lips. Draco took that opportunity to take it away. Harry didn't protest, shoving his hand into his pocket.

"Why are you smoking?" Draco asked.

"No reason. I was bored," Harry muttered.

Draco stared at the still lit cigarette. "Blaise used to smoke, you know?"

"Who do you think started me on it?" Harry asked, flicking his eyes at Draco.

"Oh…"

"Have you tried?"

Draco frowned at the cigarette. "People _die_ from this. It's cancer in a stick," he said.

"So you haven't."

"No, I haven't."

"Give it a go," Harry urged.

Draco looked at Harry hesitantly. "Yeah?" he asked, looking repulsed.

"No harm in one drag, right?"

Draco watched the orange light creep up towards his fingers. "No harm in one drag," he muttered, placing his lips against the cigarette and breathing in. He coughed and grimaced, shaking his head. He spat on the ground. "Ugh! What the hell, Potter?"

Harry laughed at the display. "It's an acquired taste," he said.

Draco was blowing raspberries onto the sidewalk, trying to get rid of the taste. He glared at the cigarette murderously. "One last pull and then you're done, alright?" he said, looking at Harry.

Harry blinked at Draco. "Really?" he asked.

"Yes, really."

"Hmm…" Harry murmured, taking the cigarette from Draco's hand and breathing in. He sighed, letting it out. He dropped the end on the ground and let the snow sizzle away under the heat. "Happy?"

"You're disgusting," Draco said. "I'm going to wash it down with ale." He strode back in, leaving Harry to mind his own business again.

Harry stared at the cigarette butt. "Guess this is where we part ways," he muttered in amusement.

* * *

Room 110.

Victim number 10 was found just shy of two months after the ninth. Y was getting greedy and restless. It was sloppy. It looked as though Y had regressed three years. The cuts were similar to the second and third victims – hesitant at first, then becoming anger filled slices. Blood splattered over the walls and the drops ran down the pale yellow wallpaper. The spatter analyst and coroner demonstrated the way the cuts were made.

"First incision was made by the right shoulder. There is a high percent chance of the suspect being right-handed. See how it crosses over past the sternum? It's as though he didn't know where to stop. Then he did the left shoulder. This cut is more precise. It's a neat line with minimal damage to the skin. Then the final cut was made from the sternum to the navel. Once again, clean. But it ruptured the intestines on the way down. And the–"

"Whoa, wait right there," Detective Martin said, frowning. "You're saying that one of the cuts was not done according to autopsy procedure?"

"I'm just saying that the incision on the right shoulder is crude compared to the left."

"Like if _two_ _different_ people did this?"

Harry's eyes widened a smidge before he regained composure.

The coroner shrugged. "Hard to say. Perhaps the suspect was emotional during the first cut and then calmed down before making the second?" she said uncertainly. "That is the more likely scenario." Harry glanced at the bedside table. Closed. He opened it nonetheless. There was no note next to the Bible. No fingerprints, no traces of anything. Two people.

Half an hour later, Harry was in the office. He was shuffling through the suspect reports that Katie had prepared. There were two men that kept flashing in Harry's mind, but he couldn't grab a hold of who they are. He hoped that seeing their names on paper would help jog his memory. Two men. He was looking for two loyal followers of Voldemort who were never captured. Katie's desk was a mess by the time Harry found what he was looking for.

Rabastan and Rodolphus Lestrange.

The Lestrange brothers were more than capable of committing heinous acts. Frank and Alice Longbottom were in St. Mungo's because of the Lestrange family. Bellatrix died during the War, but her husband and brother-in-law managed to vanish. And now… They were doing what they did after the First Wizarding War. They were staying loyal to Lord Voldemort, any way they can.


	4. Chapter 4: Sleep

"I don't feel like going out tonight," Draco announced. He was met with shocked silence. He scowled. "Despite what you might think, I'm not a complete party animal."

"Er… What did you want to do?" Carter asked. Draco's life consisted of a day of business and a night of pleasure. What was there to do at home?

"I think I'll cook for all of you," Draco said decisively, striding towards the kitchen.

The men gaped at each other, dumbfounded. "What?" Harry muttered, going into the kitchen. He found Draco staring at his pantry. "You alright, Malfoy?"

Draco frowned at Harry. "I'm not allowed to cook?" he asked.

"I just never saw you as the cooking kind," Harry said, leaning against the counter. The rest of the men walked in cautiously. "Need some help?" Harry asked.

"What do you know about cooking?"

"Absolutely nothing."

Draco smirked. "You can make the pasta, then. Kind of hard to fuck that up."

"You'd be surprised," Harry said, rolling his eyes.

Dinner was surprisingly interesting. The stories Wes had to tell were enough to make the men choke and laugh. Dane supplemented them with his horrific anecdotes. Kyler gasped at everything, causing Harry to bit his lip to stop from scoffing. Carter maintained the peace whenever differences in opinion occurred, mostly between Harry and Draco. They had spaghetti bolognese with white wine – a simple dinner with the sophistication Draco seemed to add to everything he touched. Carter surprised everyone with his chocolate mousse he whipped up in a matter of minutes. All in all, it was a night of surprises. Everyone was in good spirits afterwards.

Harry had the first bedroom shift. He walked up the stairs with Draco. "That was nice, Malfoy. Thanks for the food," he said.

"You're welcome." Draco entered his room while Harry took the seat outside. "You've changed, Potter," Draco said, his voice floating out of the door that was still open a few inches.

"It's been ten years," Harry answered.

"How come you cut your hair?"

Harry laughed in astonishment. "How come you cut yours?" he asked in response.

"It was bothersome."

"Same."

Draco pulled out his pajamas. "That's a lie, actually," he said.

"I was lying as well…"

Draco smiled. "I looked too much like my father."

"Me too…"

Draco froze, frowning. "Oh…"

"Surprised?" Harry asked, looking at the painting in front of him.

"Yes."

"_You_ have changed. Aren't you being a little too honest with me?" Harry said sarcastically.

Draco shrugged on his shirt. "Hmm… So are you. Figured I'd extend the same courtesy," he said. Harry stayed quiet, as he was preoccupied with his thoughts. He didn't notice Draco poke his head out. "Come on in."

Harry looked up, startled. "I'm sorry?" Draco opened the door wider, beckoning Harry to enter. "Why?" Harry asked suspiciously.

"It's kind of awkward talking with a door between us, isn't it?" Draco left it at that, disappearing into his room.

Harry stared at the open door for a few seconds before following Draco in. His astonishment knew no bounds when he ran his eyes over the room. "Wow…" he breathed. "Your room is enormous!"

"Custom made for me," Draco said.

The bed was the least of Harry's interests. An ornate desk stood by the large bay windows. Shelves filled with books, potions, and other curios were integrated into the room. It was regal, mixed Persian rugs and paintings that gave the air of a palace. "I'd never want to leave if this were my room," Harry said, running his fingers over the spines.

"Most days I don't want to leave," Draco confessed. "But business won't take care of itself, right?"

"Who are we kidding?" Harry asked, turning around. "You have enough money to last you until you're four hundred."

Draco smiled, climbing onto his bed. "True. You have somewhat the same, don't you?"

"I could live fifty years with my money, yes."

"Planning on living longer than that?" Draco laughed.

"Hopefully not," Harry muttered. "You have so much stuff!"

"It's like you've turned into your thirteen year old self, Potter."

"I've just never seen anything this grand since Hogwarts, that's all," Harry justified. "I don't even know what half these things are."

"I tend to hoard. So most of this is junk."

They fell silent, Harry making a tour around the room and Draco staring up at his canopy. "Can you tell me about Blaise?"

Draco blinked and then picked his head up to look at Harry. The Auror had his back to Draco. Draco lay back down, frowning slightly. "Um… sure," he said. "He was one of the only people who wasn't scared of me. He wasn't scared to talk to me about things. He asked me things too. A confidante." Then he clicked his tongue derisively. "Of course, it was bloody difficult to put up with his comments. We got into more than a few fights. He has a– had a loud mouth on him. He kept telling me that once we got out of the War alive, we'd be able to live our dreams. His dream was to be filthy rich and not have to work a day in his life. Guess it didn't quite work out that way. Sixth year came around and… we lost touch. First and last best friend."

Harry faced Draco, searching his expression. "First and last… Sounds depressing," he murmured.

"What can you tell me about him?" Draco asked.

Harry approached the bed and sat down on it. "When was the last time you saw him?" he asked instead of replying.

"The War."

"Hmm… He had always unnerved me, you know? He was so… rude to everyone. Condescending," Harry said, remembering Hogwarts days.

"Even worse than I was?" Draco asked.

"Somehow, yes. You would glare. He'd look like it was too much of a bother to even glance at me."

"Then how'd you meet?"

"He wanted out of Azkaban, so he gave us information. I was the one who interrogated him," Harry explained.

Draco's brows shot up. "Interrogated, huh?"

"He was kind of formidable. We spent a couple hours a day for seven days in a room with no distractions. I asked questions, he answered them, and I wrote them down."

"And…" Draco murmured, urging Harry to continue.

Harry shifted in bed, bringing his legs up and sitting cross-legged with his back leaning against the bedpost. "And… he kind of jumped me on the last day."

Draco shot up, his mouth gaping open. "You did _not_ just say that!"

"It's true…"

"Do you even know what that means?" Draco asked, narrowing his eyes.

Harry looked unimpressed by the joke. "Anyway, we didn't tell anyone. But we kept meeting. Weeks turned to months, which turned to a year."

"You fell for him…"

"I can't fall for Ginny, but I can fall for Blaise damned Zabini," Harry said, smiling. "His words, not mine."

"He was happy."

"We were happy," Harry said with a nod.

"I'm glad," Draco said without thought.

"And I saw him dead."

Draco's heart dropped at a nauseating speed. "What?"

"We were one of the first on scene. We were handed the case months ago. There were three other victims, unsolved cases. He was the fourth."

"Oh god," Draco breathed. "How did you…"

"I almost didn't," Harry said, staring at the clean green sheets. "I remember that day. But I can't remember the couple of days after that." He looked up at Draco. "No one knows, okay?"

"You should tell them," Draco insisted. "I can't imagine what– how difficult it must have been."

"Understatement," Harry said, smiling humorlessly. He looked up, blinking at the canopy. "That's strange," he said, pointing.

"Hmm… Mother was always overindulgent," Draco said. The black canopy was dotted with lights, resembling the night sky. "It's like sleeping outside."

Harry shifted, laying on his back and staring up. "Overindulgent, huh?"

"Mine was, yes," Draco murmured, following Harry's suit and laying down.

"When I saw Blaise like that… it changed things. My perspective on things."

"How so?"

Harry shrugged, watching the stars. "I used to take things for granted. I know I took him for granted. It's probably why I was so affected by his death. I just need to find out who did it. I need to find out why they chose Blaise. Out of so many, why him? Maybe there was something I could have done." He quickly wiped away the tear that was running down to his hair. "I think that wine's getting to my head…"

"Did you really not have to take your NEWTs?"

Harry laughed, turning his head to look at Draco. "I really didn't."

"Hmm…"

"Since I fought in the War, Kingsley gave us a go at Auror training without passing our exams. Most didn't make it past the first couple weeks. I didn't have anything better to do than stick with it."

"You were never one to take the easy way out," Draco noted. "And guess what?"

"What?"

"I have Harry bloody Potter in my bed."

Harry snorted. "One for the books," he muttered.

"The wine is getting to me too."

At two, Kyler yawned and trudged up the stairs. He stopped when he found the chair empty and the door open. He frowned, pulling out his wand. None of the alarms had gone off. He nudged the door open with his foot. "Oh…"

Draco looked up from his book, then down at Harry who was curled up on top of the covers. "He fell asleep," Draco whispered.

"I– um… O– Okay. I'll be– out here," Kyler stammered, backing out the room and closing the door. He blinked at it for a long moment before clapping his hand to his mouth to keep from laughing hysterically.

Draco looked down at Harry again. His fists were clenched and his knees were pulled up towards his chest. Draco waved his wand, causing a blanket to float over to the bed from the closet. He laid it over Harry. The man stirred, cracking his eyes open. He glanced up at Draco. "Hmm… thanks," he mumbled, pulling the blanket up to his chin.

"Goodnight," Draco said, getting under his own sheets as his eyes threatened to fall shut any moment.

* * *

Harry stretched languidly. He ran his hand across the warm chest next to him. He lifted his head and placed it atop the soft heart. He sighed, holding on tightly. He opened his eyes, unfocused and bleary. Then he frowned. Blaise was dead. He scrambled away, only to be stopped with a hand on his wrist.

"You'll fall off," Draco said, indicating behind Harry.

"Shit…"

Draco pulled Harry forward so he wouldn't end up tumbling onto the floor. "Don't be embarrassed."

"What time is it?" Harry asked in horror.

"Around noon."

"Fuck."

"Thought I'd take your advice. Not leaving the room," Draco said with a soft smile. Harry tried to untangle himself from the sheets, mortified. "Stop," Draco added, holding Harry still. "Don't worry about it, okay?" he said firmly.

Harry nodded hesitantly. "Your schedule…"

"I'm Malfoy. To hell with schedules," Draco said.

Harry dropped his face in his hands, wanting to die. "I fell asleep!"

"I stayed awake for you, if it's any consolation."

"I am _so _sorry."

"I already said it's okay, didn't I?"

Harry wiped the sleep out of his eyes. "I'm usually quite good at keeping awake," he said.

"Yeah. You need to be good at sleep too, not just keeping awake."

Harry made a disgruntled sound, breathing in deeply. He couldn't remember having any nightmares the night before. "I talk in my sleep."

"Not last night," Draco said.

"Hmm…"

"The pasta was a bit much with that wine. Food induced coma. It'll wear off in a bit."

Harry stilled, cocking his head to one side. Then he frowned, looking at Draco. "Oh, shit!" he swore breathlessly, struggling out of bed. "I have to– I– I'll be back. Um… don't go anywhere." He rushed out of the room, nearly bowling over Dane, who was looking a little too smug. Harry held off on any sharp words, taking three steps at a time to reach the foyer.

Ron and Katie were pouring over notes while Anthony and Aldric were talking heatedly when Harry burst in, panting. "Draught of Living Death. That's what they used," Harry said, panting. "Except, instead of using asphodel, they used nightshade. Bittersweet nightshade. Paralysis."

Aldric was alert as he heard this. "But… no trace," he murmured.

"No, there isn't because the victim isn't under deep sleep. He is still metabolizing the potion. It wears off quickly. Which is how he dies," Harry said, hurrying to his desk. "He is made to drink it. He loses control of his limbs, which is why we didn't see any bruising on his limbs. The killers didn't need to hold –"

"Killers?" Ron squeaked.

"Again, just a theory," Harry said quickly. "Something Detective Blake talked about. Victim 10 looked like _two_ men had worked on him. And I was thinking…"

"Who?"

"Lestrange brothers."

"Wow," Anthony breathed, running out the room.

"It's just a theory!" Harry shouted after him. Then he turned to the rest of the team. "Anyway, they cut when the victim is paralyzed. But he is still conscious. Which is why he dies, because once the potion wears off, he feels the pain. The loss of blood and the shock of the pain kill him. Does that make sense?"

"What happened to you?" Katie asked, roving her eyes up and down Harry.

"Just woke up," Harry mumbled, scrubbing his hands over his face. "Food induced coma," he added, smiling. "So, I have to go back now. Um, see if you can talk to the medical examiner about that, will you? I don't know if there is a test he can do, but it's worth a shot."

Aldric nodded in affirmation. "Good work," Katie said, scribbling down Harry's words furiously.

A few minutes later, Harry trudged into the manor, tuckered out from the excitement. He bumped into Wes, who was wiggling his brows. "Nothing happened," Harry said.

"Oh, I'm sure," said Wes, nudging and winking.

Harry sighed in frustration, climbing the stairs to get to Draco's room. Dane stood by the door. He looked up when Harry approached. "You can go, if you want," Harry said.

"Okay," Dane murmured, not questioning Harry's suggestion.

Harry knocked on the door. "Decent in there?" he asked.

"Yeah."

He entered to find Draco still in bed. He became disoriented as his memory flashed before him. Blaise liked to stay in bed even after he woke up. He said he was trying to make himself dream, but this time he could stay in control of how the dream ended. He would be on his side, eyes closed and lips pulled up as he made up his dream. He always said that Harry was in all of them. "Harry…"

"Potter."

Harry jerked out of his reverie. "Sorry," he stuttered.

"So, what was that all about?" Draco asked.

Harry smiled, shrugging. "I have moments of… thought. I had one of those when you were talking. Thank you, by the way."

"You're welcome?"

"What did you want to do today, considering I wasted half of it for you?"

Draco shifted, wrapping his arm around his pillow absently. "Nothing," he said.

"Really?"

"Yes. I feel like doing absolutely nothing today," Draco said in a firm tone.

"Then what do you need me to do?" Harry asked.

Draco simpered, turning onto his back. "Good question," he said. "You can be my Auror bodyguard for the day."

Harry arched a brow derisively. "How magnanimous of you…"

"Isn't it?" Draco gestured Harry over with a twitch of his finger. Harry scowled, sauntering towards the bed. He froze when Draco shifted, making room. Draco noticed Harry's hesitation, but didn't say anything. He went back to looking up at the canopy that had put Harry to sleep last night. Harry sat down stiffly, fumbling with his phoenix wand. "How come you use _that_ wand?" Draco asked.

Harry looked down at the slender holly. "It's mine, so I use it," he said.

"Why not the Elder?"

"Not mine."

Draco murmured incoherently, turning on his side to face Harry's profile. "I lost my wand, you know?" he said.

Harry frowned, looking at Draco. "What?" he asked.

"In that Fiendfyre. My wand was caught in it."

"I had no idea."

"Hmm…" Draco shrugged. "It was your wand, I suppose."

Harry stowed his wand away, nodding. "Confusing, isn't it?"

"Yes," Draco replied. "Like it was _supposed_ to happen." Harry leaned his back against the headboard, kicking his shoes off and bringing his legs up onto the bed. Draco hid his smile, staring at Harry's downturned face. "You cut your hair so you won't look like your father. Why?"

Harry didn't look surprised by the question. "I'm not my father," he said.

"No one said you were."

"Everyone thinks I am."

Draco sighed, brushing a patch of pillow smooth. "What's wrong with being your father? At least he's not like mine," he said.

Harry smiled faintly. "Nothing wrong with being Dad. I've been trying to be him for almost all my life. I just realized that I can't be him," he confessed. "So I'll try and be me."

"You're such a priss."

Harry laughed, finally relaxing. "When did you turn into a _considerate_ prick?" he asked, looking at Draco.

"You aren't _that_ thick, are you?" Draco asked, stretching.

Harry shook his head. "I'm just… trying to ignore it," he said.

"Ignore what?"

Harry moved to face Draco completely. "Ignore you flirting with me," he deadpanned.

Draco grinned with a half-wink. "Glad you noticed," he said.

"Even Dane's noticed," Harry said, raising his brows.

"Is it working?"

"Do you know how crazy this sounds? Draco Malfoy is having a go at Harry Potter, his arch nemesis. The man you hate with fury. Me. No, it's not working."

Draco chuckled. "I tend to do this with everybody. Is it freaking you out?" he asked.

"Yeah. A bit," Harry said snidely.

"You know, things would be a lot better now if you became my friend from the beginning," Draco said, blowing out a breath in frustration.

"Or worse."

"Or worse," Draco repeated.

"Are you trying to tell me that you want to be my friend? Because this is a really convoluted way of doing that," Harry said, trying not to laugh.

"I thought we were friends already," Draco said boldly.

Harry went back to leaning against the headboard. "Okay… Guess we are."

They sat in pregnant silence for many minutes, lost in thought. Draco was the one to break it. "But just think about it. We'll be the hottest couple in London. Good-looking. Rich. Formid–" He was interrupted with a flying pillow smacking into his face.

* * *

Harry frowned at Ron thoughtfully. "Malfoy asked me out. On a scale of one to ten, how weird is that?" he asked. The way Ron's face fell was answer enough. "Okay, guess it's pretty weird."

* * *

Harry felt Draco's eyes on him as he handed out the schedule for the day. He felt Draco's eyes on him as they walked to the meetings. He felt Draco's eyes on him as they escorted him to lunch. He finally became fed up of Draco staring at him. On the way back from the lunch date, Harry met Draco's gaze. He didn't get what he had been expecting. Draco smirked at him. "I was wondering how long you were planning on ignoring me," he said.

"Subtlety is lost on me," Harry responded.

"I want you to arrange a meeting with Father."

Harry blinked at Draco. "Huh?" he asked lamely.

"What's there to understand?" Draco asked. "I want to see my father."

"Oh…" Draco had never tried to contact his father in over ten years. "Why?" Harry asked before he could stop himself.

"None of your business," Draco replied characteristically.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Whatever your highness wants," he muttered.

Carter and Dane had to clamp their mouth to stop from admonishing Harry while Kyler and Wes had to clamp their mouth to stop from laughing at the bickering men.

* * *

"I'll be out here," Harry said, waving Draco into the interrogation room.

"My personal Auror bodyguard. Who would have imagined, huh?" Draco said, nudging the guard. He got no response. He rolled his eyes and walked into the room.

"Sorry about him," Harry apologized.

"Some of them never grow up, sir."

Harry stifled his guffaw because Lucius was nearing them. The prisoner nodded at the Auror before walking in after his son. The guard followed and did his preliminary charms before stepping out of the room and closing the door.

Draco stared at his father dispassionately, leaning against the far wall while the older Malfoy sat down. "I want you to remove Potter from my protective detail," Draco said.

"Why would I do that?" Lucius asked.

"He can do more with his time instead of babysitting me," Draco said.

"Why are you talking to me? Why not just talk to the Head Auror?"

"I want you to continue giving them information even if Potter isn't protecting me," Draco explained.

"Hmm…"

"That is all." Draco pushed off the wall and walked towards the door.

"Wait. Draco…"

Draco paused. "What?" he asked.

"How are you?" Lucius asked.

"Really, Father?" Draco muttered, turning to face Lucius. "You want me to answer that?"

"Yes."

"Mother's dead and you're here. How do you _think_ I'm doing?"

Lucius didn't answer, looking away. Draco wrenched the door open and slammed it shut, walking away. Harry looked bewildered, blinking at Draco's retreating figure. Then he snapped out of it, running after his charge. "Wait, Malfoy," Harry said, stopping Draco in his tracks. "What happened?"

"You are no longer required on the security team, Harry," Draco said.

"Oh…"

* * *

"Harry's back!" Ron crowed.

"Yay!" Katie exclaimed, throwing her hands up.

"Hey," Aldric said, waving.

"Fucking bastard!" Anthony swore, throwing his quill down.

"Gosh, you sure know how to make me feel welcome, Anthony," Harry said, laughing as he walked to his desk.

"Not you, dumbass. This darned list gets longer every time I look at it!"

"List of…"

"Possible victims."

"But really, what are we supposed to do with a list of possible victims?" Harry asked.

"Robards wants one 'as thorough as your Defense Against the Dark Arts essay'. He thinks I'm a child!" Anthony said, breaking the nib of his quill in his anger.

"Anything about the nightshade?" Harry asked Aldric.

"Tests were inconclusive," Katie answered.

Aldric handed Harry a small piece of parchment. "Shops zat sell zi plant," he said triumphantly.

"Only five?" Harry remarked.

"Worth a shot, right?" Katie said.

"Heck yeah!"


	5. Chapter 5: Blood Red

Harry and Aldric stood in front of the apothecary, stowing their wands. "Hopefully third one's the charm," Harry murmured, pushing the door open. A strong waft of spices washed over the Aurors. The shop was sparsely occupied with customers but held an abundant supply of herbs, measuring appliances, and such in wall-to-wall shelves. They scanned the shop, noting the many violations in effect. Aldric rolled his eyes at Harry. The keeper was an old witch by the name of Gertrude Botham. Her back was turned to the men as she assisted one of her patrons. Aldric scanned the shelves, reading the labels silently. Harry eyed the tiny vials of unicorn horn dust with disguised disgust.

"Two grams? Very well," Gertrude said, turning around. She did a double take. She swore, pushing past her customer and taking off to the back of the store. Harry flicked his wand at her, silently freezing her on the spot.

"Please vacate ze shop immediately. Merci," Aldric said loudly, pushing the customers out. Harry approached the old woman and undid the charm, keeping his wand pointed at her. She stared at the wand in fear, pressing against the wall.

"Why are you running?" Harry asked quietly.

"They'll kill me, sir. Please," she said in panic.

"The customers who bought the nightshade?"

She nodded in response. "I can't say anything. They'll kill me if they find out that I– that I talked," she stammered.

"We will provide protection," Harry assured.

She shook her head, swallowing loudly. "I can't, I can't," she nearly cried.

"We can make this easy or difficult. Easy way is to tell me who bought the nightshade. The difficult way is me ticketing you for _all_ the violations you have going on here. Do you have a license to own half these things?" Harry asked.

She was too terrified to speak.

"Nod for yes and shake your head for no. The men, have you seen them before?"

She shook her head.

"Do you know their names?"

She hesitated.

"Remember, we will provide you protection."

She nodded slowly.

"Lestrange?"

Her eyes widened a bit. That was all Harry needed to see.

He looked over to Aldric, who was regulating the traffic right outside the store. "Al, secure the building," he said loudly. "And call in –" He felt a ripping pain against his chest. He gasped, staggering back.

"I'm so sorry," Gertrude sobbed, swishing into the back room and fleeing.

Harry fell to the ground, coughing and wheezing. He couldn't breathe. The small silver dagger was embedded deep inside him. The blood flowed down, staining his robes. He heard Aldric's voice coming closer to him, but he couldn't keep his eyes open. He just wanted to sleep. "No, don't sleep, 'Arry," Aldric muttered, picking Harry up. He used his wand to ease the dagger out of Harry's chest. Harry cried out, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. "One more," Aldric breathed, trying to close the wound.

Harry shook his head as the cut burned. "Something in the dagger," he wheezed, coughing up blood. "Stop."

Aldric pulled Harry's robe out of the way and jerked away the bloodied shirt. The wound was seeping blood, bubbling from the air that Harry was trying to drag in. There was a tear in the lung. "Zey are on ze vay. Stay alert," he kept repeating, trying to keep Harry from concentrating on the pain.

Harry nodded. "I'll be okay, Al… It was the Lestrange brothers, okay?" he murmured breathlessly.

"Don't speak!" Aldric exclaimed. The commotion outside the store alerted him of the Mediwizards. "Zey are 'ere. Don't sleep."

"I won't," Harry whispered, his breath leaving him and his vision going black.

* * *

"That went smoother than expected," Rabastan muttered, his wand sweeping through the room to erase all traces of him and his brother being there. Rodolphus didn't answer, tight-lipped as he opened the bedside table and dropped in the note. "You're still not satisfied? You need to learn patience."

"We've waited ten damn years," Rodolphus growled, spinning to face his brother.

"And now we wait a bit longer. As I had said, patience," Rabastan murmured, repositioning the leg.

"These are scum compared to the one I want to kill," Rodolphus said in disgust, spitting at the corpse.

"Stop," Rabastan said, flicking his wand at the body to get rid of the spit. "You are becoming too reckless. I shouldn't have let you work on the last body."

"Why? Are you afraid I'll turn into a monster?" Rodolphus sneered.

"I already know you are one. I am afraid that you will become an untamable one."

"Too late now, little brother," Rodolphus laughed humorlessly. "I want to do _all_ of Draco. Not just one measly cut. Got it?"

"Of course," Rabastan said, rolling his eyes.

"You just take care of the guards. I have a _lot_ of unfinished business with our beloved nephew."

* * *

Detective Blake rubbed his eyes tiredly. It was much too early to be looking at this. The body had turned up in Union Street. Room 111. He was too incensed about not getting enough sleep to worry about the body. He waited for Harry to show up, surprised that the man wasn't here already.

"Detective Martin Blake?"

Martin looked up a tall and grim man who was holding out his hand. "Yes?" he said, shaking his hand.

"Anthony Goldstein," Anthony introduced, pulling out his badge. "Here to inspect the scene."

"Oh, of course. Sorry. I was expecting Potter," Martin said, waving Anthony into the room. "Here you are." He watched the man enter the room and scan it wordlessly. "Like before, nothing to see. Just the body."

"No fingerprints, trace evidence?"

"No."

Anthony nodded pensively. "Cleaner than last time, isn't it?" he asked.

"Much. There is absolutely no sprayed blood," Martin said, indicating to the walls. "So… how close are you to catching the killer?" he asked vacantly. It was a question he had always asked Harry. And he had always received the generic, 'as close as last time' answer.

"This could be the last one," Anthony murmured.

Martin's eyes shot up. "What? You solved it?" he asked.

"We have suspects. Now we just need to get them before they kill again."

"Them?" Martin asked uncertainly.

Anthony smiled wanly. "Harry told me your theory after the last victim. How you thought the cuts looked like two people did them. Turns out you were right."

"Wow, really?" Martin asked, looking quite pleased. "Glad to be of some help."

"It is always appreciated, Detective."

"Where is Harry, by the way?"

Anthony's smile slipped. "He's indisposed at the moment," he said, raking his eyes over the open body.

"You know, in over two years, he hasn't missed a body. He's sort of… an odd one, isn't he?"

Anthony shrugged. "We all are," he mumbled.

"Hmm…" Martin answered. "Want some coffee?"

"Sure. Thanks."

The moment Martin left the room, Anthony turned to the bedside table. It was open an inch. He pulled it open further.

_The next one will avenge your death.  
- Y_

* * *

"Sir, Astoria is at the gate," Carter said, interrupting Draco's breakfast. Draco frowned questioningly. Carter shrugged in response. Draco flicked his wand absently, opening the gate.

"How much time do we have?" Draco asked, drinking his juice.

"An hour," Carter responded, walking back to the security office.

"Good," Draco sighed, flipping over the newspaper. He frowned when he caught Harry's name in a passing glance. Before he could read any further, the doorbell rang. "I'll get it," he called out, looking up. He wiped his mouth and got up from his seat. He looked back to the paper in his hand as he walked, trying to find Harry's name again.

_Auror Harry James Potter has been in critical condition at St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries since the attack. _

Draco staggered to a halt, his heart hammering. He reread the statement. He was about to yell out Carter's name when the doorbell rang again. "Fuck," Draco swore, running to the door and wrenching it open. "It's really not –"

A flash of red struck his chest and he fell to the ground.

* * *

Harry jerked awake, gasping. Ron and Hermione were at his side in an instant. "Hey, Harry. You alright?" Hermione asked softly.

"Water," Harry croaked. "At least ten cups."

Ron snorted, conjuring a glass for his best friend. "Drink it one at a time, alright?" he said, relief coursing through him. "Gave us a scare!" he added. "You've been out for a long time." Harry was too busy drinking to question Ron aloud. So he looked at the redhead inquiringly. "The dagger had jimson weed extract in it. Coma, they said."

"The thirst is from the poison as well," Hermione added helpfully.

Harry finished his first glass, motioning for more. "Did you find her?" he gasped, his chest burning.

"No. She disappeared. Merlin knows where she's run off to."

"She was scared," Harry mumbled, coughing as the water went down the wrong pipe. He winced, groaning in pain. "Isn't the wound healed?" he asked incredulously.

"It was quite deep, Harry," Hermione said. "The dagger punctured your lung. Something in the poison is making the healing slow. You aren't to move too much for a week or two, depending on how good your system is."

"I'm going to get the team, alright?" Ron said, patting Harry's arm. "You did great, Harry."

Harry struggled to sit up, the pain shooting from his chest to his right arm. He flexed it. "Damn, my wand arm too," he muttered.

"Then must be a sign that you shouldn't be working for the next two weeks," Hermione said sensibly, smiling at him.

"Harry!" Katie squealed, running up to him and hugging him tightly.

"Ow, fuck, fuck, fuck! Let go!" he swore.

"Erk! Sorry!" she blushed, retracting her arms. "Sorry."

Harry grimaced, massaging his neck. "Comas suck," he muttered glumly, clenching his right arm to try and reduce the pain.

"But you're alive!" she crowed. "It's a miracle!"

"He's Harry. Of course he's alive," Anthony muttered, rolling his eyes.

"Is Al okay?" Harry asked.

"He's fine now. Took a while to calm him down though. Because you decided to stop breathing," Ron said, raising his brows in contempt.

"It's not like I did all of this on purpose!"

"Kingsley's ordered a two week hiatus for you," Anthony said.

Harry slumped against the pillows. "But we're so close," he grumbled.

"While you were out, there was another," Katie filled in. "Number 11. _And_ a note."

Hermione perked at this. "I'll step outside," she said, squeezing Harry's hand before moving away. They waited until she had left. Ron threw a few charms at the door. "The next one will avenge your death, it said. What do you suppose it means?"

"At first we thought it meant you," Anthony said. "With you killing Voldemort and all. But they wrote the note after your attack. They had no way of knowing what your condition would be. So now we're looking for alternative victims."

"Me…" Harry murmured, frowning. "But I don't fit the victim profile."

"That too."

Before they could discuss any further, they heard a thud against the door, as though someone had tried walking through. A low French swear sounded. Ron rolled his eyes, lifting the privacy charms. Aldric walked in, looking flustered. "I just –" He staggered to stop when he found Harry very much alive. "Dieu merci," he breathed, striding up to Harry and hugging him. "I didn't– I– I'm so sorry," he whispered thickly.

Harry smiled and hugged him back gingerly. "I'm okay, Al. I'm perfectly fine," he murmured.

"You are okay..."

"Apparently I'm on a two week vacation."

Aldric laughed shakily, pulling away from Harry. "You deserve it," he said. Then his smile dropped as memory served him again. "R – right. We 'av a problem."

"What?" Katie asked.

"Draco Malfoy did not come for Lucius Malfoy's appointment."

Harry's stomach dropped. "Huh?"

"When was the appointment?" Ron asked.

"Eleven."

Harry glanced at the clock. "Two hours ago. He's– he's never late…"

"You don't think he's…"

Harry closed his eyes, trying to calm himself down. "Okay, I want teams to secure the manor. See if he is in there. And… and can you get me my phone? It's in my robes. Was in my robes."

Ron was already out the door, following Harry's first instructions. "Phones won't work here, Harry. Too much magical interference," Katie said.

"Well, someone needs to contact Detective Blake. Tell him to send patrol to the red-light districts. Room 112. Maybe check it every few hours."

Anthony nodded, burrowing into his pocket to pull his liaison cell phone out. "I'll do this outside," he mumbled, rushing out of the room.

"See if you can locate Draco's security. Any of them."

Katie nodded. "I'll start at the manor and work from there," she said.

Harry was shaking by now. This was happening all over again. What if… Aldric placed a calm hand on Harry's. "'E is okay, 'Arry. Don't worry, hmm?"

"Right, right," Harry murmured, nodding.

"I vill talk viz Robards."

"Good luck with that," Harry said, twisting the sheets in his hands.

"Rest," Aldric said sternly, shutting the door behind him.

Harry threw the covers off and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. He muffled his moan through gritted teeth. He concentrated on breathing calmly. He got on his feet. He was surprised to find that he wasn't dizzy. He stood straight, wincing when trying to arch his back. The pain was ebbing away as he moved. He shuffled to the closet, taking his clothes out. The blood was removed and the small tear was repaired. It was as though nothing had happened. He took his hospital gown off with a lot of effort. Donning his street clothes got easier once his muscles were used to movement. Now the only problem was trying to wheedle his wand from the nurses' station. "I'm Harry bloody Potter, right?" he muttered, smoothing his hair. He looked awful when he caught his reflection. "Ugh," he grunted, opening the door to his room and peeking out. He found no familiar faces in the slightly crowded hallway. He moved to the nurses' desk at the other end of the corridor. Each step he took made him that much looser. By the time he reached the desk, he was walking more or less normally. He caught one of the nurses' attention. "I wanted to sign out my wand," he said.

"Except for the fact that you aren't supposed to be out of bed for the next two days, Mr. Potter," she said shrewdly.

"There's a really important case that's come up. I'll be back in bed in a jiffy. I swear," he begged. "Just for a couple hours. Please?"

"I will have to report this to the Head Auror," she warned.

"Sure, sure," he said, nodding. "Anything you want."

"There is something else," she said, looking quite displeased by what she was doing. "There are some potions that will need to be transported to your residence. Could I get the address please?" she asked, fishing Harry's wand out and handing it to him.

"Yeah. It's 12 Grimmauld Pl–" he choked. "Oh, fuck," he swore, ignoring the sharp pangs in his chest and the shouting voice of the nurse as he sprinted towards the Apparition Point. Victim number 12.

* * *

Draco was pulled out of his stupor by a lazy _rennervate_ performed by Rabastan. His heart jolted as awareness struck like lightning. He wanted to jump up, but found himself stuck in the chair by invisible cords. He blinked his eyes, trying to focus in the darkness. He could barely make out the figures of the two men in front of him. "What the fuck do you want?" Draco growled.

Rodolphus tsked. "Watch that mouth of yours, Draco," he scolded.

Draco's eyes widened with horror. "Wh– why are you– what? Uncle?" he stammered, squinting. "Let me go."

"Hmm… I don't think so."

"What are you doing?" Draco asked, his stomach churning nauseatingly. "Where are we?"

Rodolphus clicked his tongue. "How awful is it that you don't know where your own mother grew up?"

Draco swept his accommodating eyes around the room. It looked like the drawing room, complete with couches and pictures. Draco frowned at the photographs. "Wait… That…"

"We were going to dispense Potter off with you. But that old hag already took care of him."

"We're in Potter's house?" Draco exclaimed. "What's going on here? What do you want?"

"This is _not_ Potter's house, understand? This was meant to be _mine_," Rodolphus growled. "An heirloom passed down to Bella. That dog cheated her out of this too. He got what he deserved."

"Where's Harry?" Draco asked shakily.

"Dead," Rabastan murmured, studying the painting with interest.

Draco felt as though he had been socked in the gut. He let out a choked groan. "You killed him…"

Rodolphus snickered. "Always knew you were thick. No, we didn't kill him. Wish we had. Like I said, the hag killed him. Heard it was a rather painful predicament. But never fear. Yours will be even more painful."

"You killed Blaise…"

"Who?" Rodolphus asked, frowning at Rabastan.

"Zabini. You know, the fourth one," his brother filled in.

"Oh, right. Zabini. Hmm…"

Draco snarled and launched himself at Rodolphus, taking the chair he was bound to with him. The older man easily stepped away, causing Draco to ram into the table and fall to the ground. He cried out in pain as his shoulder crushed against the floor. "Quite a fighter, isn't he?" Rabastan asked in amusement.

"_Crucio_," Rodolphus chanted.

Draco shouted breathlessly, trying to scramble away. The chair stopped him from moving, which only cause the Cruciatus Curse to seem stronger than it was. Draco drew blood from his tongue as he thrashed. His body was on fire and his mind was being ripped apart. He lost consciousness. When he awoke, he was shivering from both shock and the cold. He was naked on the bed. His legs were tied to the bedposts and his arms were above him, crossed at the wrists and bound. Rodolphus was sitting on the edge of the bed. "For you, Draco, no potion. You get to feel each cut as I make it. The price for defecting and betraying us."

"Please," Draco sobbed, trying to pull his limbs out of the ropes that tied him. "Please don't do this."

"Please don't do this. Why do all of you say the same thing?" Rodolphus wondered, pressing his scalpel against Draco's shoulder. Draco shrieked in pain as he felt the skin tear and burn. "So vocal," the man said, laughing quietly and stopping.

"Just kill me. Don't do this," Draco begged.

"But being dead is so easy. Being tortured however…" He ran the blade down Draco's chest vehemently. Draco screamed, eyes wide open but unseeing. "Did that hurt?"

Draco felt the blood bubbling out of his cut and pouring out over his side. "KILL ME!" he cried in fear. His mind flashed through his life. He wanted his mother. He wanted her to hold him like she did after the War. He screeched until his mind turned red. As red as the blood that was pouring out of him. "KILL ME!"

"No. I don't want to give you the satisfaction," Rodolphus said, taking his time as he walked around to the other side of the bed. "Since I won't be able to get to your precious parents, you will have to do. I suppose you will feel enough pain for three." He slashed his scalpel down to make a V on Draco's chest. Draco fell silent, fainting. Rodolphus pursed his lips in consternation and pulled out his wand. "_Rennervate_," he murmured. Draco was pulled back to reality. He whipped his head around, trapped in his nightmare. He was screaming silently, arching his back, which only caused the cuts to widen. Blood pooled around him, stark contrast with his pale skin. He felt nothing but the trickle of blood all around him and the pain as though his limbs were being pulled apart inch by inch. He could hear nothing but his own screams. Screams he couldn't let out. He was dying.

"And one last cut makes three."

Draco couldn't stand the pain any longer. His mind shut itself down as Rodolphus took slow cuts down to Draco's navel.

"Now we are even, Draco."

Draco blinked up. He was in Harry's bed. Instead of the starry skies from his room, he stared at the plain white. Pure. Maybe he would go to heaven. He wanted to go to heaven after going through hell. He wanted to be in his mother's arms again. He sobbed weakly, unable to think of anything but white.

Then he felt nothing.

Harry traced his wand over the bleeding wound, sealing it. Rodolphus was on the floor, immobile. The blood was dripping down from the sheets onto the man. Draco's blood soaked into Harry's clothes. There was too much. The Emergency Mediwizards barged in a moment later, freezing on the spot when they saw the sight. Harry looked up in panic. "Please, he's– he's not responding," he said. He cut away the ropes that had held Draco in place. His ankles and wrists were chaffed and bleeding. The Mediwizards got over their initial shock and moved in on Draco.

Harry was pushed out of the way. He stood by the door, faint from pain and shock. He stared at his clothes. Covered in blood. He fell to the ground, trying to scrub them clean. His hands were red. Blaise… Harry screamed in agony, clutching his head in his bloodied hands. Blaise was dying. Blaise was dead. "HELP HIM!" He felt people trying to get him out of the room. He fought with tooth and nail. He needed to fight for Blaise. He needed to keep fighting. He needed to fight for Draco. He threw wild punches, never stopping his shrieking. "DON'T HURT HIM!" He scrambled onto his feet, blindly feeling his way towards the body on his bed. He was dragged back and pushed against the wall. His wrists were forced on either side of his head. He increased the ferocity of his scream, feeling more helpless than ever. He had to fight. He had to save Blaise. "DRACO!" Harry opened his teary eyes to find Ron talking rapidly. He couldn't hear anything but his own cries.

"Please, you –"

Blaise was dead. Blaise was murdered!

"Stop –"

There was so much blood. There was so much pain. He had heard it all. He had heard it the moment he entered his home and disarmed Rabastan. So much torture.

"He's –"

Harry needed to keep fighting. He slammed his head against the wall, hoping to break through it. He needed to fight. He slammed his body into the wall, screaming.

"He's alive, Harry. He's alive."

Harry sagged, falling into Ron.

"He's alive."

Draco is alive…

"He'll be okay."

We'll be okay.

"You saved him, Harry."

I saved Blaise.

Harry slid to the ground, senseless.

* * *

Draco awoke slowly, as though unsure of what he was doing. Harry moved in closer, absently stroking Draco's cheek. Blank grey eyes opened and stared at the ceiling. Then they moved towards Harry. "Hey," Harry whispered. Draco squeezed his eyes shut and pursed his lips, tears slipping as he sobbed silently. Harry lay next to Draco, hugging him close. The Auror had done his share of crying already. He felt Draco biting into his shoulder, as though to keep from shouting. The silent tears turned into heaving gasps and whimpers. "You're okay, Draco. You'll be fine now. I won't leave," Harry murmured, stroking Draco's back soothingly. He smiled warily and said, "I'll even go on that date with you."

Draco sobbed loudly, meaning to laugh. "Don't go away, Harry. Please, don't go away," he cried.

"I will be right here when you wake up, okay?"

"I don't want to sleep. I don't want to sleep," Draco pleaded.

"Draco," Harry said softly, pulling Draco's face up. He kissed the salty lips gently. "Now you can tell everyone that you kissed Harry damned Potter. Dream about that," Harry mumbled, his lips gliding over Draco's. "Make your own dreams."

"Don't leave me."

"I'll be right here when you wake up."


	6. Chapter 6: Sly Games

Draco awoke to Harry's soft breathing. He opened his eyes to darkness. His heart thumped painfully as he reached over to the side of his bed and picked up his wand. He flicked the lights on, his pulse returning to normal the second he could see. He gripped the wand in his hand. He was going to keep it with him at all times. Harry stirred as the light filtered through his closed lids. "Hmm?" he asked, throwing his arm over Draco and pulling him close. Draco pressed his forehead to Harry's, staring at the peaceful expression.

"I thought you were dead," Draco whispered hoarsely.

Harry looked at Draco. "You thought I was dead?"

Draco felt fresh tears threatening to burst out of him. He reined it in. "They said you were dead. That it was painful. I didn't think you would save me."

"It's quite hard to get rid of me," Harry said, smiling. "I'm okay now. I was following a lead and things got messy. I was in a coma. Not dying. Besides," he brushed away Draco's tears, "I promised your father I'd take care of you, didn't I?"

"You did."

"You have no idea the shit storm going on out there," Harry murmured. "I've been suspended."

Draco frowned, sadness forgotten. "Pardon?" he asked.

"For not providing full disclosure about Blaise's relationship with me. Robards got me suspended. He called me a disgrace to his department and a few other choice words. Here's the kicker. He decides to do it in front of the _entire Auror team_. How much lower can that man stoop to? But I guess I deserved some of what he dished out."

"You don't deserve any of what he dished out," Draco said tiredly. "You saved my life. You deserve a fucking medal… I didn't think you were going to tell them about Blaise."

Harry gave him a weak smile. "I didn't. It just spilled out when I saw you like that. I had a breakdown, embarrassingly enough."

"You're suspended."

"Pending internal investigation."

"And after the investigation?"

"Who knows? I don't care anymore. It's over," Harry sighed. "Let's worry about more critical situations, okay? Where are you taking me on our first date?"

Draco laughed humorlessly. "You don't have to, Harry. I know you just–"

"Just help me get my mind off of things. A pub would be good."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah," Harry nodded.

"How's Astoria? And Carter and–"

"Stable. All of them are doing well," Harry reassured. "Just shaken up. They put up quite a fight. Your house is a mess. I'm not exaggerating."

"My house… I was in your house, wasn't I? Where are you living right now?"

"Ron's," Harry informed. "I… I don't think I want to go back."

"Stay with me?"

Harry chuckled. "Your personal Auror bodyguard?" he asked.

"For my peace of mind. Not as my bodyguard. Just as a roommate. How is that?"

"It's just a ruse for you to get into my pants, isn't it?"

Draco breathed deeply, taking in Harry. "You know me too well, Potter…"

"I can't," Harry said, brushing down Draco's ruffled hair. "You're the principle witness. I don't want to botch the case we have against these two." Draco's heart sank. He didn't want to let go of Harry. He wrapped his leg against Harry's and shifted closer, fright taking away his voice. Harry smiled and whispered, "Like I said, if you need me as a personal Auror bodyguard…" Draco blinked, his sinking heart floating back up. "I'd be more than willing to help out," Harry finished.

"Thank you," Draco cried with relief.

"Gosh, you're crying a lot, aren't you?"

"Shut up, Potter," Draco said, sounding less forceful than he had intended. "I haven't cried in years. I think this is a good time to start."

"I should be one to talk. I couldn't stop for a day," Harry confessed.

Draco hiccupped, trying to stop his heaves. "If I said I love you, you won't leave, will you?" he asked.

Harry stilled, frowning. He looked down at Draco. "I'm sorry?"

"I just need to say it to someone."

"I– I won't leave," Harry stammered.

"I love you."

Harry nodded and Draco's gasps grew stronger. "It's okay, Draco."

"I love you... I love you. I love you. I was so sc– scared. I thought you– and he told me you– he kept talking to me and I– I was so scared. I love you. I just need to say it... I want someone to care. I want someone to know that– that I love you. He kept talking. I felt so scared. I wish Mother were alive. I want to tell her I love her too. I have so much to tell her. I love you. They k– killed Blaise. My own uncles did this. Why? I t– tried to fight. I tried so hard. I wanted to die. And they wouldn't let me. And it h– hurt so much. I love you. And I –"

"Draco," Harry murmured. "Listen to me." Draco stopped rambling, words caught in his throat. He felt Harry's hand pressed against his heart from over his hospital gown. "You're alive. Don't you see? You're alive. And nothing like this is ever going to happen. Understand? And don't say it all at once. We have fifty years... Four hundred for you."

"I love you."

"Do you _really_?"

Draco chuckled shakily. "Not really," he breathed, calming down. "I just needed to say it."

"I love you too."

"Do you _really_?" Draco asked, closing his eyes.

"I just needed to say it," Harry whispered. "And now you can tell all your friends that–"

"Harry damned Potter said he loves me."

"One for the books."

Draco looked up at Harry. "How about that kiss?" he asked.

"What, you want another one?" Harry asked, affronted.

"I don't really remember the first one."

"You're such a boor," Harry chuckled.

Draco sighed with a smile, hiding it against Harry's chest. "I could easily fall in love with you, though. Is that alright, Potter?"

"Something I'll just have to live with."

* * *

Harry was reading his book as he absently stirred the hot chocolate in the pan. The front door opened. "I'm in here," he shouted out, putting the book down to add cinnamon.

"Turned into a real housewife, have you?"

Harry whipped around at this, staring at Katie incredulously. Anthony and Aldric were right behind. "Um… What're you guys doing here?" he asked, laughing.

"Ooh, hot chocolate? One cup for me, please," she said, peering at the drink.

"No… This is for _me_," Harry said, putting himself between the hungry eyes and steaming milk.

"We thought you might be getting bored," Anthony said, sitting on the barstool. "What's up?"

Harry shrugged, pouring the hot chocolate into a mug and handing it to Katie. "Not much. A bit of this and that," he said.

"Malfoy. 'Ow is 'e?" Aldric asked.

"He's great. He'll be back home in a couple of days, once everything is straightened out."

"So…" Aldric murmured. "You two are…"

"Friends. We are friends," Harry said firmly, glaring at his smirk. "Also, where's Ron? And how on Earth did you get in?"

"Meh," Anthony said, waving his hand vaguely.

"You broke in? Hermione's going to be pissed," Harry chuckled.

"Hardly breaking in if we used the door, right?"

"Hopeless," Harry muttered.

"No more secrets," Katie said sternly, licking the chocolate off her lips.

"Yeah, yeah. No more secrets," Harry said, rolling his eyes.

"So, sucks that you weren't at work today," Anthony said, swiping at an invisible speck of dirt on the counter.

"Why?" Harry asked, flicking his wand to start more cups of hot chocolate. "Robards yelled at you guys some more?" he snickered, pouring in the milk.

"Robards resigned," Katie said.

Harry spilled the milk over the counter. "Shit," he swore, waving his wand over the puddle while trying to figure out what Katie had said. "He what? Why?" He turned to his team in bewilderment. All he got were similar devilish smiles. "Um… What did you guys do?" he asked in trepidation.

"Oh, we _might_ have lodged a complaint with the Minister," Anthony said nonchalantly.

"And ve might 'ave gone to ze papers," Aldric mumbled, checking his nails.

"And we might have put in a recommendation," Katie finished, smacking her lips. "Great hot chocolate."

"What did you do?" Harry breathed in horror.

Anthony dug into his pocket and pulled out a badge. "Guess we have a new Head Auror now," he said, flicking the golden pin at Harry, who fumbled to catch it.

"M– me?" Harry squeaked, looking at the badge in awe.

"Couldn't think of anyone better," Katie laughed.

"I'm suspended," Harry said weakly.

"Not anymore," Aldric grinned.

Harry shook out of his reverie, blinking. "This is a joke, right?" he asked uncertainly. "A _really _well planned joke."

Katie rolled her eyes. "Yeah, one that the Minister's in on. Because we're that good," she said sardonically.

"Whoa," Harry said breathlessly, staggering towards the barstool and sitting down. "I'm– I'm Head Auror? I'm only twenty-six… I'm too young! I have, like, _no_ experience, you guys! Why not one of the –"

"Oi, stop arguing with us! We pulled a _lot_ of strings," Anthony snapped.

"I'll be a crap boss," Harry said helplessly.

"Good. We'd rather have a crap boss than the devil."

Harry stared at the badge. "Head Auror…"

"Yes. Take in _all_ the glory," Katie said, laughing.

"Wow," Harry chuckled. He looked up at his team. "WOW!" he shouted, pulling Katie into a hug. "Thank you!" He let go of her and turned to Anthony. "Thank you so much!" He laughed near hysterics, ending with a long hug with Aldric. "Wow…"

* * *

Draco looked up from his parchment when the door opened. Harry poked his head in, looking quite pleased with himself. "What?" Draco asked, a smile growing on him when he caught Harry's excitement.

"I," Harry announced, walking in with his chest puffed out, "am now the _Head_ Auror of the Ministry of Magic."

Draco's eyes widened. "What?" he exclaimed.

"I know!" Harry said giddily.

"Oh my gosh!" Draco gasped as Harry showed off his new badge. He got out of bed and snatched the golden emblem from Harry's hand. "Congratulations!" he laughed, hugging Harry. "From suspension to promotion? Impressive!" he said, letting go and holding the badge to the sun. "I love a person in authority," he added, winking at Harry. Harry kissed Draco lovingly, pressing his hands against the pale cheeks to keep steady. Draco pushed him away, sputtering. "Wh– what? Potter!" he admonished.

"Oh, come on!" Harry said excitedly.

"Come on what?" Draco scowled. Harry wiggled his brows suggestively, causing Draco to balk.

"You'll remember that kiss, won't you?" Harry asked.

"Oh, for… _Fine_." Draco looped his arms around Harry and kissed him senseless. They fought for dominance, bruising lips and clashing teeth. Harry's hands trailed down to Draco's hips. Draco bent Harry back with enthusiasm, moaning at the feel of Harry against him. It was marvelous. When they pulled apart, Harry was panting with his head against Draco's chest. "When I flirted with you, I wasn't expecting you to reciprocate. You don't have to do this. You know I'm not Blaise, right?" Draco asked quietly.

"I know."

"No, you don't understand. I'm not like him _at all_. We're practically polar opposites."

"I know."

"So, why…"

"I'm not exactly sure," Harry murmured. "Maybe I… I want to let him be?"

"Oh."

"Maybe two years is enough. Maybe I should let go now. With you."

"Oh."

"If he were here, he would give me a bloody nose before giving me his blessing…"

"Oh."

"Is that all you have to say?" Harry asked lightly.

"Um…"

Harry chuckled, bunching Draco's shirt in his hands. "I love Blaise. And I see what Blaise saw in you. I'm willing to give it a go. We've been through so much. It's only expected, right? I have a feeling we won't have any troubles with the… physical relationship. The other stuff, we'll work on together."

"You want to bone me, Potter?"

"Mmm…" Harry murmured. "I'd love to bone you, Malfoy."

"Okay, now I _know_ something's wrong with you," Draco said, untangling himself from Harry. "You're just… frustrated because you haven't had any for two years. So you're planning on doing it with the first person you see. It's quite obvious," he said sensibly.

"Yes, I'm frustrated." Harry breathed an irritable sigh. "I'm frustrated with the whole damned thing. And I'm frustrated of feeling frustrated."

"So you want a backwards relationship? Sex first, talk later?"

"Yes. It worked with Blaise, didn't it?"

Draco smiled faintly, tugging Harry forward and kissing him softly. "It worked with Blaise. But I'm not Blaise. It doesn't work with me, Harry…"

"It's what you do with all women," Harry argued. "Speaking of which, aren't you straight?"

"I can make exceptions. Besides, you aren't like the others. You're Harry bloody Potter."

"And Harry bloody Potter wants to get in bed with you. What do you do?"

"Is there a punch line that I'm missing?" Draco asked, nuzzling Harry's neck.

"The part where you invite him in."

"You aren't making this easy," Draco chuckled. "Drinks first, other stuff later, okay?"

Harry stepped back in defeat, glaring at Draco. "Fine," he groused.

* * *

Martin opened the door grumpily, rubbing his eyes to keep the sleep away. He was enveloped in a jovial hug, which caused him to jolt awake. He pushed away from the embrace. Harry was grinning from ear to ear. "Um…"

"We caught them!"

"I'm sorry?"

"The killers. We caught them! You were right! There were two! Thank you so much," Harry said, hugging Martin again.

Martin was in shock. This was the most Harry had said. And Harry had never grinned at him before. "Are you alright?" the man asked, eyeing Harry suspiciously.

"I've never been better," Harry exclaimed honestly. "So, I just came by to tell you that my department's put in a good word for you. Thanks for cooperating so well."

"Er… you're welcome?"

"Am I coming off as a bit loony?" Harry asked, biting his lip out of habit.

"Yes. Very much so," Martin said quickly, nodding.

Harry smiled warily. "You were right. I didn't give you the whole picture," he said.

"And what is the whole picture?"

"The fourth victim was a very good friend."

Martin looked horrified. "What?" he gasped.

"I was the one that fainted. Remember?"

"Oh my gosh! I am so sorry!"

"No, don't be. I got caught up in the investigation. I should the be the one apologizing, right?" Harry said, waving off Martin's condolences. "It's over now. And I look forward to working with you in the future."

"This is the cheeriest I've seen you," Martin muttered.

"I was made head of my department," Harry said, winking. "That's cause for celebration, right?"

* * *

"You look… happy," Draco said, titling his head at Harry. They were at dinner, munching on their breadsticks while waiting for the entrees to arrive.

"Yeah?" Harry asked.

"Why?"

Harry smiled. "I guess… I finally feel happy. Nothing's left unfinished. Nothing to worry about."

"I'm glad."

"Why were you going to go meet your father that day?"

Draco blushed at the question, not expecting it. "Oh… um… I– we left it off on bad terms. I– I wanted to apologize," he mumbled.

"Did you?"

"No."

"Did you want to?"

Draco looked up at Harry. "I just– I can't bear to look at him. He ruined me. I was just a child and he didn't waste time destroying me. It just– it makes me so angry," he said.

"But he's your father."

"But he's my father."

"And you love him."

"And I love him."

Harry nodded. "I'll arrange another meeting."

"Thank you…"

The food arrived, looking delicious. The men tucked into the dinner heartily, too busy eating to bother talking. Neither minded. After all that had happened, they enjoyed the quiet time. Harry's wandering foot caught Draco's. Draco looked up questioningly. Harry didn't acknowledge the gaze, keeping his eyes on his vegetables as he speared them. His shoe hooked around Draco's ankle. Draco smiled to himself, returning to his plate. Harry's foot slid under Draco's pant leg. Draco cleared his throat, pulling his leg away. "Not like Blaise," Harry murmured, flicking his eyes at Draco. Draco gave him a sickly sweet smile before dropping it to glare him into obedience. Harry chuckled, seceding and shifting his foot back to his side of the table.

"Oh crap!" Draco muttered in horror, his fork clattering to the plate. "Astoria…"

Harry snickered, trying to keep a straight face. "Mhm."

"I'm still dating her!"

"Mhm."

"I should break up!"

"Mhm."

"Ugh," Draco grunted in disgust. "This is such a mess."

Harry grinned, shaking his head. "How about we call this a dinner instead of a date? Will that make you feel better?"

"I still need to break up with her."

"You don't need to do anything."

Draco frowned at Harry. "Oh?" he asked. "You want me to date _both_ of you?"

"You don't have to date me," Harry said, shrugging. Draco looked utterly lost. "Just a couple favors in bed and s–" Harry was met with a kick in the shin. He kicked Draco's leg away, snorting in amusement. "I'm serious though. If you want to, I don't mind you dating her. This is just– something to get my mind off of things. It's fun."

"Do you enjoy befuddling me, Potter? Because at this moment I can't think straight."

"Look," Harry said, putting his cutlery down so he could speak without distractions. "Whatever this is, it's a first for me. I don't remember _ever_ being this callous. So I don't mind if you wanted to stop before it got anywhere. I know you really like her. And she likes you."

"I like you too."

Harry smiled. "Hmm…"

"I'd rather like you than her."

"Oh?"

"You're Harry damned Potter, remember?"

* * *

Harry pushed through the door, a stack of files balanced precariously in one hand and a half-eaten muffin in the other. "Morning," he greeted his team.

"Hey! You're back!" Anthony noted.

"They found Gertrude Botham," he said, his mouth full and spraying crumbs as he made his way to his desk. "She was hiding in Plymouth." He dropped the files on the table, causing them to slide. "She's confessing as we-" He blinked at his desk. "Um… where's my stuff?" he asked, turning around and swallowing his mouthful.

Katie was looking about ready to burst into maniacal laughter. "You have your own office now, remember?" Ron asked, searching Harry's face for signs of crazy.

Harry blushed. "Oh…"

"Yeah. Oh…" Aldric said with a grin.

"Right," Harry muttered, staring at the scattered files on his clean desk. "Well, I brought all this here, so… might as well work here for today, right?"

"You're the boss," Katie laughed.

* * *

Draco opened the door to find Harry beaming at him. "Got them life without parole."

"They're already convicted?" Draco exclaimed incredulously.

"Yup! They'll never see the light of day. Isolation cells. It's done, Draco. It's all done!"

Draco scooped Harry up in his arms and kissed him hungrily. Harry folded his arms against Draco, his feet off the ground. Draco chuckled, pulling Harry in and kicking the door shut. Harry wrapped his legs around Draco's waist, causing the latter to stagger back. They collided with the wall, Draco leaning against it heavily to keep from falling. Harry looped his tongue around Draco's, sliding. Draco moaned, light-headed. He dropped to the floor, using his arms to lower them both. Harry sighed, settled on Draco's lap. Draco brought his knees up, trapping Harry between his chest and his thighs. They couldn't contain their hands. Harry's found Draco's buttons while Draco's found Harry's belt.

"Ahem."

The men broke apart with a sharp intake of breath, blinking at each other. "Fuck," they swore in unison, untangling from each other and scrambling away, still on the floor. Carter was looking at them disapprovingly. "S- sorry," Harry panted, wiping his mouth and getting up unsteadily. "I- I should… um- go." He couldn't bear to look at Carter as he turned around.

"W- wait," Draco stammered, nearly falling in his hurry to get up. He caught Harry's arm and spun him around. "Carter, go away."

"Hmm…" Carter mumbled, walking away without complaint.

"Don't leave," Draco breathed, kissing Harry shyly.

Harry's eyes were closed even as Draco pulled back. "No?"

"No. Don't."

Harry opened his eyes, deep green. "Okay, I won't…"

* * *

"I _might_ be sort of… kind of dating Draco Malfoy," Harry said, flicking his eyes at Ron fervently. "Is that… weird?" By the way Ron's face fell, Harry realized what the answer was. "Okay. Very weird."

* * *

The moment the guard left, Lucius hugged Draco close. "I am so sorry," the older Malfoy said tiredly. "I know it is asking a lot from you to forgive me. So I just… I will just ask you not to hate me," he murmured. Harry moved away, letting the two talk it out. Draco had insisted that he come in as well.

Draco closed his eyes. "I never said I hated you, Father," he whispered.

Lucius felt his breath choking him. He let it out shakily. "I love you, Draco. And I am so sorry for everything."

"I love you too…"

It was the first time in years that the two had said as much to each other. Draco held his father calmly. Lucius looked over Draco shoulder to Harry. "Thank you, Harry," he said. Harry nodded in response.

* * *

Harry yawned, slipping his knee between Draco's legs. "I'm so tired," he murmured, his eyes closed. Draco held him close, a hand pressed against his back and the other brushing the jet-black hair.

"You can sleep here, if you want," Draco said.

"Then I won't wake up on time, will I?" Harry chuckled, bunching Draco's shirt in his hands as they hugged tightly. Then Harry moved away, rolling out of bed. "I'll see you tomorrow," he said, smoothing his clothes and pushing on his shoes.

"Hmm…" Draco mumbled, smiling.

Harry leaned forward and kissed Draco. "Goodnight."

"Mhm."

Harry flicked his eyes up at Draco timidly and said, "I love you."

Draco grinned, falling onto the pillows. "Finally!" he sighed, pulling Harry forward. "You're not leaving tonight."

Harry laughed, kicking his shoes off as Draco worked on his buttons. "Is that all it takes to sleep with you?" he asked.

Draco nodded, kissing Harry lovingly. "That's all it takes. I love you too, Harry."

* * *

**A/N: **And that's that. Did I not tie up enough loose ends? Looks pretty complete to me. If you guys find something more you'd like me to add, let me know and I'll make up one last chapter. And that does not include a smut scene. Sheesh! Thanks for sticking with the fast updates! YOU GUYS ARE AWESOME! :D


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